Freedom
by no-more-doubt
Summary: After years of being controlled and abused, Danielle Maroni is determined to live her life by her own rules. However, when she finds herself face to face with the infamous Joker, her desire for freedom becomes shadowed by something even stronger.
1. Truly Afraid

Hey, everyone!

This is my first Dark Knight fic. Well, actually, it's set three months post TDK, but you get the idea. I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter.

R&R and let me know what you think! :]

***

I was never the type of girl who let fear run her life. In order to survive, I was required to be strong and independent and to not let people walk all over me. Even with the amount of security and stability my last name left me, I knew there would be a time when I would need to take care of myself. I couldn't, and wouldn't, stand under the shadows of my father's dominance and intimidation for the rest of my life. He was respected by his peers and feared by those who sat beneath him, but to me, he was nothing more than a thug craving power and wealth. I was not afraid of him. I was afraid of nobody.

This attitude brought me a lot of trouble.

You see, Sal Maroni couldn't stand the idea of his own daughter defying him. My mother had died long ago, and being an only child of an infamous mob boss, I was left with the responsibility of carrying on the Maroni legacy. Being female, that meant marrying someone my father approved of and having children of my own. Despite my own ambitions and dreams, I had no say in the matter. Sal Maroni controlled my life, and every time I fought my way out of line, he would beat me back into it. He would try to break me, beat me into submission so that his own selfish pride wouldn't be burned.

However, he underestimated my strength. Thanks to television and the help I received from some of my father's lackeys, I was able to learn how to properly wield a knife and shoot a gun by the time I was seventeen. A little late, but I'm proud to say that I'm stronger and more capable than most of the other women in Gotham. In fact, being the daughter of a mob boss has its perks. I'm a pure genius when it comes to crime and have no shame in that fact. So, while my father spent his nights gambling and sleeping with expensive whores, I prepared myself for the day when I would have my freedom.

Killing him became my ultimate goal.

Needless to say, when he was murdered by Two-Face, I was both elated and jealous.

All my planning went out the window, but I reveled in the fact that I was free. My wealth and stability disappeared with him, but I frankly didn't give a shit. I was free to live out my own life, and whether or not that involved crime, I didn't care. My entire life was wasted on my father and his plans, but with him gone, no one was left to stop me from getting what I wanted.

A month after my father's death, his money ran out, taken by the Gotham police for one reason or another, but it didn't matter to me. I had used enough of the money to rent out a small apartment for a few weeks and found myself a decent job as a bartender in a local nightclub. Nothing fancy, and nothing chic or expensive. I had wished for something new, something exciting and different, and that's exactly what I had found. My life was anything but glamorous now, and I loved it.

That is, until I met _him_.

I both curse and savor the moment he came into my life.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

***

It was a chilly November night — a Friday, to be exact. It had been three months since my father had been killed and my life consisted of a fairly stable routine. I got hundreds of dollars in tips during the weekends, and it felt good being able to support myself without having to rely on my last name.

Tonight, the club was beyond busy. I stood beyond the bar pouring drink after drink for patrons and newcomers as the music blared and the neon lights flashed across the dance floor. The room was musty, reeking of sweat and perfume. Couples crammed themselves onto the brightly lit tiles of the dance floor, grinding their bodies together and flirting endlessly.

I stood with my back turned towards the action as I poured a group of men their shots of whiskey, but I could see everything clearly through the wall-length mirror in front of me. I took time to stare at my own reflection, checking to make sure my appearance was presentable. My dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which fell gracefully down my back. I brushed a few loose stands behind my ears and couldn't help but notice the circles that were beginning to appear under my green eyes, an indication of my lack of sleep.

Forcing a smile, I grabbed the drinks and turned to the bar.

"Here ya fellas go," I said politely. All five of the men were still relatively sober, thankfully. One of them, an attractive man with ebony hair, stared at my nametag and smiled up at me.

"Danni, is it? Short for Danielle?"

I smiled. "Yeah, but I prefer Danni."

"Well, Danni, how about you and I meet up after your shift? I'm sure you'd enjoy my company."

He put his hand on mine, and I quickly removed it and placed it under the bar. This wasn't the first time someone like him had come in here and hit on me. He was attractive, but I knew his type. Guys like him were no different than my father. Handsome face, clean-shaven, expensive suit —a rich man looking for an easy lay in the lower areas of Gotham when the upper parts couldn't fit his needs. It was disgusting, and what most guys didn't know was that I was anything but easy.

"I'll have to pass," I said shortly, not caring whether or not he could hear my disdain.

His friends laughed and jeered at him quietly and I could see his scowl through the darkness of the club. Like my father, he couldn't stand his ego being bruised, especially by a woman. Turning away from them, I quickly busied myself with some bottles, organizing them until I heard someone call for service down at the other end of the bar. I tried to ignore the fact that the man was watching me. I hated being stared at. Not only was it rude, it was unnerving. An hour later, he and his friends left and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

My boss, Jake Lameer, seemed to notice.

"Were those guys giving you trouble?" he asked, his deep voice humming over the music. "I can always take care of them for ya."

I smile and shook my head.

"I just bruised another ego tonight, that's all. He'll get over it. They always do."

Jake snorted, glaring after the group of men as they made their way out of the club's dark, wooden doors. He was a big guy in his early thirties with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. He was a sweetheart underneath all of the muscle though, and despite the fact that we both knew I could take care of myself, he was constantly trying to protect me from the men he thought were trouble.

By the time my shift ended, it was around two in the morning. The crowd in the club had dispersed, but business was still thriving. I said goodbye to Jake and my other co-workers, grabbed my bag and coat from underneath the bar, and headed towards the back door. Wrapping my black coat tightly around my body, I braced myself for icy wind to hit my face. A thin blanket of snow lay on the ground and on the tops of the trashcans that lined the side of the building. The deafening music inside the club became nothing more than a low rumble and I slowly began walking down the darkened alley towards the dimly lit street.

My boots crunched against the fresh snow, but after a few steps, I could hear the unmistakable sound of someone behind me. Instinctively, I reached into the pocket of my coat and grabbed the handle of my small switchblade, but before I had time to pull it out, I felt an arm wrap around my neck tightly. My vision blurred as they tightened their grip, their muscles pressing against my windpipe.

"I've been waiting out here a long time, Danni," the man whispered in my ear. I could smell the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath and his familiar voice sent a shiver down my spine. Spinning me around, the ebony-haired man from earlier slammed me against the brick wall of the club, holding my neck painfully in one hand. I clawed at his wrists, digging my nails into his flesh, but his grip didn't loosen. The look in his eyes screamed of anger and lust. His hair was disheveled and his light blue shirt hung loosely out of his black pants. I could feel the bruises forming on my neck as he choked me. Taking his free hand, he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them above my head.

"I always get what I want," he whispered, his lips inches away from mine. The small of his breath made me want to vomit.

"Fuck off," I seethed, trying to wiggle my way out of his grip. He simply laughed.

Angered and panicked, I slammed my right knee into his crouch, which must have caught him off guard because he fell to the snowy ground almost immediately, withering and groaning in pain. I took the opportunity to run for the street, but soon felt him grip my ankle. He tugged sharply, causing me to fall and slam my head on the cold cement. I watched dizzily as my blood mixed with the snow and soon found myself on my back. I could feel the man's weight press into me as he held me down.

"You stupid bitch!" he screamed, slapping me hard across the face and splitting my lip. I glared up at him, trying to gather myself together before the unthinkable happened. I screamed out as I fought against him, hoping someone would hear me, but the music in the club was far too loud and the streets were completely empty. Whatever I needed to do, I needed to do it and fast. With all my strength, I struggled to push him off of me and succeeded enough to where I could reach into my pocket for my blade. I grabbed the handle and quickly tore it out, ready to slash at his face as he continued to advance on me.

However, he caught my wrist in his hand and twisted it painfully, forcing me to drop my only weapon in the snow. He glared down at me and struck me across the face again, smearing blood along my cheek.

"Now, Danni, what were you planning on doing?" he asked gently, but the cruelty in his voice was more than clear. Gripping my neck again, he squeezed tightly and brought his lips dangerously close to mine. "I told you I always get what I want."

What happened next was a blur. One minute, the creep is pressing his lips against mine and choking the life out of me, and the next his dead body is pressing me further into the snow with a bullet lodged deep into his back. I hadn't even heard a gun shot, but I didn't take the time to try and make sense of it all. I quickly rolled the man off of me, grabbed my blade out of the snow, and held it out defensively. Through the alley shadows, I could make out a group of men making their way towards me. There was five, maybe six. They all had guns.

Hastily, I turned to run in the other direction towards the street, but ran into another man almost immediately. I gripped the front edges of his velvety coat to hold me up, my face buried into his soft shirt. For a brief moment, I thought that he might be there to help me, but the sound of his familiar laughter reached my ears and killed any hope within my heart.

I had heard his infamous laughter on the news.

I had heard my father speak of him with the other crime bosses.

His insanity was legendary, but how could he be here now? He had been incarcerated in Arkham Asylum three months ago.

I looked up slowly, hoping that I was wrong, but the make-up was hard to mistake. His pale-white face stood out against the darkness with his eyes covered in black make-up and partially hidden by his stringy blonde-green hair. His smile was caked in red and over-exaggerated by his scars. His shadowed gaze penetrated my own and his cruel smile sent shivers down my spine.

"Well, _hello_ beautiful," he said, cackling as he lifted me up so that our faces were level.

His smile widened, and for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid.


	2. So Much for Privacy

Chapter two!

I don't own anything related to TDK or Batman in general. :]

***

_His smile widened, and for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid._

I stared into his face, willing my legs to remain still as they shook from a mixture of fear and lack of warmth. My eyes never left his. If there is one thing I learned, it was to never show your enemy that you're afraid. But by the flash of excitement that crossed his features, I knew it was too late.

"You look _scared_," the Joker said. "Is it _these_?"

He motioned to his scars with one hand and suddenly grabbed my face painfully, holding my cheeks in between his index finger and thumb. My eyes immediately shot to the blade he held in his other hand, and it was soon pressed against the side of my mouth. I struggled to free myself, but he held me in place.

"Aw, now, dollface," he cooed, stroking the sides of my face with his knife. "Don't be so _nervous_. Why, just a few minutes ago you were willing to _carve_ someone's face with your own bla-_de_."

He slowly traced the tip of his knife down past my temple to the curve of my jaw, chuckling softly. I could feel the bruises beginning to form under his fingertips, his grip on my face tightening. I glared into his dark eyes, trying to show him that I wasn't afraid; though I'm sure he could hear my frantic heart beating.

"Screw you," I whispered softly in response to his words and quickly brought my knee up hard in between his legs.

He hunched over in pain, cackling and chortling as if it were the most amusing thing in the world. He really _was_ insane.

"Well, dollface," he replied after a moment, straightening himself, "how do you expect me to be _screwed_ if you do some-_thing _like tha-_t_."

He was angry. Aside from his scars and the messy red make-up that covered them, I could see his smile fade somewhat. I knew should have run then, but my feet were frozen in place. The Joker's thugs were still behind me, though they kept their distance, and I knew if I tried to run past him, I wouldn't get very far. So, I stood still, searching out of the corners of my eyes for any sign of my fallen knife.

With one gloved-hand, the Joker waved his thugs away, and I could hear their shoes crunching against the freshly fallen snow as they made their way out of the alley. I felt his fist land in my stomach and he gripped my neck tightly, squeezing my windpipe before I even had time to respond. My abdomen seared in pain and the skin of my neck burned under his touch.

When I felt the cool-edge of the blade against my face, I knew that I didn't have much time left. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable as my dazed and oxygen-depleted brain struggled to make the rest of my body move. But it was no use.

I soon felt the icy snow against my back, seeping in through my clothes after the Joker threw me to the ground. I choked loudly, the cold air both a blessing and a curse as it traveled to my lungs. Looking up, I noticed that his darkened eyes were focused on something in the distant sky, a cruel and excited grin crossing his clown-like face. He stared down at me, his smile growing.

"Sorry to have to, uh, end our date so soon, dollface, but something came u-_p_."

And with that, he ran past me down the alley, stepping unceremoniously on the dead body of the ebony-haired man. I turned onto my side, my eyes following him as he turned the corner and disappeared from view. The sound of screeching tires echoed throughout the empty streets, and I let out a sigh of relief. I lay in the snow for who knows how long, trying to catch my breath and listening to the low rumble of the club music. I found myself growing increasingly irritated over the fact that people sat inside the building, having a good time while she nearly got killed and raped.

After scavenging the area around me, I soon found my knife. I placed it in my pocket and stood on shaky legs. My mind flashed back to the Joker's face before he ran off. He was so excited; looking like a child who just found out he got a new bike for Christmas. I turned my head towards the sky and noticed the one thing that could ever possibly tear the Joker away from his toys.

Against the dark gray clouds sat an even darker shadow, outlined in pale yellow light: the Bat-Signal.

Rolling my eyes, I gathered my dazed mind together and trudged slowly towards the street. I didn't care about the dead body behind me or the fact that the Joker was out and about and looking for Batman. All I cared about was getting home.

Once I got to the busier part of the area, I hailed down a taxi. I could have easily walked home, but my clothes were drenched from having lain in the snow and the warmth from the car's heater was comforting. The apartment complex where I lived was not in the best area of Gotham, but to me, it was perfect. I handed the driver a twenty and told him to keep the change. Quickly, I made my way to the front doors of the complex and swiped my card. My apartment sat on the third floor, and I could feel my muscles burning as I climbed the stairs.

The rooms were fairly small, but cozy in their own way. The front door opened up into a living room, and a kitchenette rested near the right corner, complete with a small dining table, a refrigerator and stove, and numerous other appliances. The bedroom sat was on the right hand side of the apartment and had an adjoining bathroom. I made my way past the kitchenette and flipped the light switch on in the bedroom. The queen-sized bed took up nearly half the room, covered in worn, yet soft blankets. I had always been the type of girl to choose comfort over style.

Once in the bathroom, I stripped myself of my damp clothes and jumped into the hot spray of the shower. Needless to say, I felt dirty in every sense of the word. Not only had I had _two _creeps' hands on me, but my face was caked in dry blood and sweat. I nearly scrubbed my skin raw and despite my efforts to relax, my mind kept drifting back to _his_ face.

I had only ever seen him on television, so being so close to him had felt unreal. His gloves were soft and he smelled of gunpowder and cologne, but his face — I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like without make-up, if he could even be recognized as the Joker. Shaking my head, I turned of the water and wrapped a towel around my body. My brown hair hung loosely past my shoulders and stuck to my exposed back. I stopped in front of the mirror to survey the amount of damage that had been done to my face: a split and very swollen lip, a nasty scrape on the forehead, and horrendous bruising around my neck.

Growling angrily to myself, I changed into comfortable pajamas and slipped into my bed. Thankfully, I didn't have work the next night, but I knew I would be hearing from Jake about the dead body in the back alley. If luck was really not on my side and Jake recognized him as the man that hit on me, I would be hearing from the Gotham police as well.

And, sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

***

I was awoken by the angry shrill of my cell phone while my alarm clock blinked seven-thirty in the morning. Groggily, I felt around the bedside table until I felt its smooth surface and picked it up, staring at the name of the caller: Jake Lameer.

_Great_, _here it goes_, I thought as I flipped the phone open and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Danni!" Jake cried, his voice higher and concerned. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice. Do you remember that guy, the asshole who hit on you? Yeah, well, I found him dead in the back alley behind the club after I finished closing it up. I almost didn't see him. He was almost completely covered in snow."

"Well, I can't say that he didn't deserve it," I replied, wincing as I sat up to rest my back against the headboard. I felt like a truck had hit me.

"Are you alright? You sound like you're in pain…"

"I think that's an understatement."

"Danni, did he hurt you?" Jake's voice darkened. He didn't wait for an answer. "I should have walked out with you when you left. How stupid of me. I should have known that creeps like him would be waiting around."

"Jake, it's not your fault. He roughed me up, but I'm fine now."

"Well, did you see how he was killed?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. I didn't want to relive last night and I certainly did not want Jake worrying anymore.

"Danni?"

"I didn't see how that happened," I responded quickly. "Once I fought him off, I ran for home."

There was silence on the other end of the phone, as if Jake was deciding whether or not to believe me. I closed my eyes and hoped he would.

"Well," he said after a moment, "when the police showed up, I told them what happened between you and that asshole. I gave them your address and decided to call you as soon as they left. I wanted to make sure you were okay. But, I think I should warn you that they're probably going to stop by your apartment to ask you some questions."

I groaned. I knew better than to think I wouldn't have to talk to the police.

"Should I call you later to check up on you?" Jake asked.

"No, no it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow night at work," I said and hung up the phone.

I curled back into bed and hid my face underneath my pillow. The last thing I wanted was for the Gotham police force to know my whereabouts. It's not that I was scared about being arrested. I had done some petty crimes in the past, but nothing to catch their attention. I didn't want them to pry into my life like they had when my father was alive. I hid from the limelight of the press, but the police had always kept a close eye on me, especially during the Joker's rampage through the city three months ago. They thought that I was a possible target, but it was obvious that the Joker didn't even know who I was. If he had, he would have most likely said something about my father when he was holding a knife to my face.

The police didn't know that though, and now, with the Joker loose, they would bring me back to the pit I spent years trying to climb out of. They wouldn't see me as Danielle. They would see me simply as a Maroni — a threat, a target, a woman with no means of defending herself. It made me sick.

***

My doorbell rung an hour later.

Reluctantly, I got out of bed and made my way into the living room, not even bothering to change out my sweats. Looking through the peephole of the door, I was greeted by a fisheye image of Commissioner Gordon and another officer.

"Good morning, Ms. Maroni," Gordon said with a small smile after I opened the door. "I'm sure you've already heard about the murder outside the nightclub where you work, and we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

The commissioner glanced down at bruising on my neck and his eyes widened slowly. I quickly turned away, opening the door wider and motioning for them to come into the living room. I pulled out one of the dining chairs and placed it in front of the sofa. Gordon sat while the other officer stood with a pen and notepad in his hands. Taking a seat on the couch, I placed my hands in my lap and looked up at the commissioner expectantly.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

Gordon cleared his throat. "We were told by the owner of the nightclub that you had a brief and hostile run in with a newcomer at the bar." He held out a picture of the ebony-haired man's corpse, his face pale and his lips blue. "Is this the man?"

I nodded.

"When you left the bar after your shift, did you meet him a second time?"

I nodded again, my eyes glued to the picture that now sat on my coffee table.

"Tell me what happened."

I lifted my face to look at Gordon. His light blue eyes hid behind his brown-framed glasses as he stared at me intently, pushing me for the truth.

"I walked out into the alley and started towards the street when I heard someone behind me. Next thing I know, the bastard has me in a choke hold. I guess he wasn't the type who liked to be turned down."

"And then?"

"We struggled. I fought him off and then I ran for home."

I focused my attention onto the carpeted floor in front of me, but I could feel Gordon's crystal eyes bearing into me.

"Ms. Maroni —"

"Look," I said, unable to contain my frustration, "I had a rough night last night, and I don't know what else you want to know. I don't know how that bastard ended up with a bullet in his back."

I saw the surprise in Gordon's eyes and I knew I had just dug myself a deep hole. I knew what the commissioner was thinking: how could she possibly know that he was shot in the back if she hadn't been there to witness it?

_Yeah, great going, Danni_, I thought bitterly to myself.

Gordon sat back in his chair and took off his glasses.

"Ms. Maroni," he said calmly. By the look in my eyes, he could probably see that I had caught my mistake. "I understand how hard it must be to talk about what happened, but we need you to be honest with us right now. We know that you weren't the one to kill Mr. Edinger, but we need the truth so we can protect you."

"How do you know I didn't kill him?" I asked defiantly.

"The bullet in his back is the same type of bullet that was used three months ago in several of the Joker's killings. They're unique," Gordon replied as he cleaned his glasses with the edge of his coat sleeve. He placed them back on his face and stared at me intently. "Did you see the Joker last night?"

I lowered my eyes to the floor. "Yes."

"What happened?"

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. "At some point when I was struggling with _Mr. Edinger_, he was shot. I tried to run, but ended up running into the clown. Long story short, he noticed the Bat-Signal in the sky and took off."

"Did he say anything that would lead you to think he might come after you?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't even think he knew who I was." I looked up at Gordon, my eyes pleading for him to understand. "I've spent the last three months separating myself from the life I used to live, and the last thing I want is to be put in the spotlight because Sal Maroni's daughter had a run-in with the Joker. I like keeping my life low-key for now."

The commissioner nodded. "You don't need to worry about the press, Ms. Maroni. We're keeping the details out of their hands until we can sort things out. Right now, finding the Joker is our main objective. You'll have your privacy."

And like a fool, I believed him.

***

The next night at the nightclub, I stood behind the bar, cleaning a few glasses. It was a relatively slow night — having some rich bastard murdered outside your building can really hurt the business, but I didn't mind. I was enjoying the slow pace. A few people sat in the booths near the corner, sipping their drinks and talking quietly amongst themselves. The television near the corner of the bar was set to a news station, and the sportscaster was relaying information about some baseball game. Suddenly, the image changed and the grim look on the news anchors' faces caught my attention.

"Sorry to interrupt the sports tonight, ladies and gentlemen, but we have urgent and breaking news concerning the infamous Joker."

The man paused and looked down at his notes before lifting his head up to the camera.

"We have just received word that the rumors of the Joker having escaped out of Arkham Asylum are indeed true. The murder of Alan Edinger has been confirmed as the Joker's first killing in three months. Our sources also tell us that Danielle Maroni, daughter of the late crime-boss Salvatore Maroni, escaped a similar fate that same night. We are unaware of the Joker's motives for going after the last remaining member of the Maroni family, but one idea is that Danielle Maroni might be tied in with her father's corrupt —"

I couldn't stand hearing anymore. I could fear my anger ripping through my chest, threatening to strangle anyone who even remotely came near me. Blocking out any more information from the television, I grabbed my things from under the bar and headed down the street to catch a taxi.

Oh, Gordon was going to get an earful — that was for sure.

As I sat in the back of the taxi, I watched as the buildings of Gotham flew by my window and cursed the world silently. It starts with one rumor. Just one word from the press is all it would have to take. Then there would be more rumors and reporters wanting interviews. I had seen it enough with my father to know how it worked.

_Damn police. Damn Gordon. Damn Joker._

_Damn them all to hell._

_So much for my damn privacy._


	3. Protection

I apologize if I'm slipping in and out of first person. I double-checked this chapter, but I could have missed some things and/or grammar mistakes.

Hope you guys are enjoying the story!

R&R, thanks! :]

***

The Gotham City Police Station was a large stone building near the heart of the city. Its five-story structure reached high into the sky and its small windows glowed brightly against the night's darkness. As the taxi pulled up along the curb, I glanced around the darkened sidewalk suspiciously before tossing a twenty towards the driver and hopping out of the car. I could hear him calling after me, but I was too far to understand what he was saying. That, and I simply didn't care.

I stormed into the station, bypassing the flustered secretary in the lobby and walking straight into the holding cell area. The sounds of angry criminals echoed throughout the room as police officers hurried along with their business. The annoying secretary was behind me, trying to get me to come back into the lobby, but I paid her no attention.

My eyes were set on Commissioner Gordon, who stood a few feet away, watching while the criminals in the holding cells made a fuss. His brow was furrowed, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. I approached him quickly.

"What was that about me having my privacy, _commissioner_?" I fumed, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He looked at me with tired eyes and his face sunk a little.

"I apologize, Ms. Maroni," he replied. "I'm not sure how your story got out. We gave the press a statement about the Joker because the public has a right to know and we're doing all we can to find the person who leaked your information."

He averted his gaze away from mine and refocused his eyes on the holding cells in the distance. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, and I could tell that there was something on his mind, something he was not telling me.

"Look," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "my name is probably going to be in the papers tomorrow, and if I'm unlucky, the same person who leaked my name will leak my address. All I want is to be left alone and kept out of this. There has to be something you can do."

Gordon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes slowly. "It's not that easy, Ms. Maroni."

He turned and began walking towards his office, motioning for me to follow.

The room was quite spacious. An elegant, dark cherry desk sat in the middle, littered with papers and files and seemingly out of place among the four white-stoned walls that surrounded it. I took a seat in front of the desk and waited for Gordon to speak.

"If the Joker didn't know who you were a few nights ago, then he certainly knows who you are now," he said. "That guy follows the news religiously."

He sat down behind the desk and took a deep breath. "Since we last spoke, Ms. Maroni, things have gotten quite complicated. You see, Alan Edinger, the man who attacked you, was the heir to the Edinger Construction Company here in Gotham. It's one of the wealthiest companies in the world and is tied closely to Wayne Enterprises, which is also here in Gotham."

He paused for a moment, allowing my mind to process the information he was telling me: my would-have-been rapist was a rich heir to a company that I had no connections to and that I could care less about. His position would explain his arrogant attitude, but not my relationship to the developing situation.

Gordon must have seen my confusion, because he began to explain more.

"The Joker is not your ordinary criminal, Ms Maroni. You see, three months ago he began ripping off mob bosses like your father simply to get under their skin and wreak havoc. I'm afraid that the same thing is happening now, only instead of mob bosses, we're beginning to believe that he wants to attack some of Gotham's most prominent companies."

"But what does this have to do with _me_?"

"That night in the alley, the Joker was after Alan Edinger. Killing the heir was his own sick message to Edinger Construction, and, like I said before, if the Joker didn't know who you were then, he will certainly know now. You could be a possible target for him."

"You said he wants to attack _companies_, Gordon," I said in frustration. "I have no connections to Edinger Construction or Wayne Enterprises. If my father did while he was alive, I cut those three months ago so I can't be a part of his plan."

The commissioner shook his head. "The only plan that the Joker ever has, Ms. Maroni, is to cause chaos. I understand your desire to be separate from your past, but your last name is well known. If he thinks that going after you might help him introduce some anarchy, then I'm afraid you _will _become a part of his plan."

I stared at Gordon with widened eyes. I could feel my fear working its way up my body from the base of my spine because as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. The Joker was psychotic and unpredictable, and from what I had seen of him the other night, it wasn't hard to believe that he could get a sick thrill from striking fear in someone as strong-willed as me. Closing my eyes, I couldn't help but remember the feeling of his knife as he held it to my face or the nauseating pulse that ran through my stomach after he punched me. I was no stranger to pain or abuse, but for some reason, his actions had scared me.

I felt something warm rest itself on my shoulder and I looked up to find Gordon squeezing it reassuringly.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said gently. "For all we know, you could be the furthest thing from his mind, but it's always better to be cautious. The best thing to do is to just go about things like you usually would. I can have a patrol car watch your apartment until things die down, if you'd like."

I nodded, hoping my fear wasn't painfully obvious. Thankfully, all he did was smile, and, opening the door to his office, called for an Officer Rickman. I turned in my chair to see the man approach. It was the same officer that had accompanied Gordon to my house, his dark brown hair no longer hidden under his police cap. He looked at me and smiled before turning his attention towards his commissioner.

"Rickman, I'd like you to escort Ms. Maroni back to her apartment," Gordon said. "I'm going to put you in charge of making sure she's safe until things with the Joker are under our control, understood?"

Rickman nodded. "Yes, sir."

Gordon turned to me and gave a small nod before leaving the room. Standing up from my chair, I stared at Officer Rickman, who stood looking at me with dark chocolate eyes. He was relatively young, around my age and probably fresh out of the police academy.

He held out his hand as I approached the door. "Joshua Rickman," he said with a charming grin. I took his hand and returned the smile. I had to admit that he was fairly attractive with tan skin and perfectly straight teeth. As much as I hated the Gotham police force at that moment, I let myself feel protected by his presence.

He led me through the station and outside towards the back parking lot.

"I'm sorry you're stuck with me Officer Rickman," I said as he opened the passenger side door for me.

He smiled and made his way to the driver seat.

"Please, call me Josh," he replied. Putting the car in reverse, he backed the cruiser out of his parking space and drove down the darkened streets of Gotham. The car ride was quiet, but not awkwardly so. He asked me a few questions, but other than that, he let me have my privacy, which I was thankful for.

When we reached my apartment complex, he handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

"That's my personal cell phone," he said. "I'll be parked a little ways down the street and will have a clear view of the front of the building, but if you need any help, don't hesitate to give me a call."

I smiled and said my thanks before getting out of the car. I hurried up to the apartment doors and swiped my card. Josh was still in his cruiser, watching me as I made my way threw the lobby. My living room window had a view of the street, so once I was inside, I checked to see if he was still parked in front of the building. Sure enough, he was gone, but I knew he wasn't too far.

It was both comforting and unnerving. The Joker had almost brought down the entire city once, so what made Gordon think that one officer could help me? Joshua Rickman was nice enough and I felt a little better with him around, but could he really protect me?

Exhausted, I plopped myself down on my couch and turned on the television. I absent-mindedly flipped through the channels before landing on the local news and was greeted by a mug shot of the one and only Clown Prince of Crime. His white face make-up looked as if it were peeling off, his eyes melting into black. His blood-red lips were curled into a small, arrogant smile with his scars stretching up his cheeks. I couldn't shake the idea that he was staring at _me_, his foreboding expression warning of certain things to come.

I felt a shiver run up my spine and immediately turned off the t.v.

"No more news," I said to myself as I settled myself deeper into the cushions of the couch, and within a matter of moments, I was lost in a dreamless sleep.

***

The following week went by without much hassle. News crews and reporters bombarded me with questions and cameras almost every evening, but thankfully, Josh was always there to keep them at bay. He would give me a ride to the nightclub and park his cruiser across the street and would stay until my shift ended.

Despite the fact that I had been attacked in the back alley, work was where I felt the safest. Not only did I have Josh watching from outside, but I also had Jake, and although both could be little overwhelming, it was a nice feeling being able to count on them.

On Monday night, however, Josh was nowhere to be found.

I had gotten off my shift at the usual time and walked out the front doors to where the police cruiser usually sat, only to find the space empty. Confused, I spent a good ten minutes looking around the area, but there was no sign of Josh. I reached into my bag and pulled out the small piece of paper that had his cell phone on it. I had never called him; I never had a reason to, but I figured now was a good a time as any.

Leaning against the light post in front of the nightclub, I dialed the number into my phone and waited patiently as it rang.

No answer.

"Danni?" I heard Jake call out from behind me. "Danni, I thought you'd be long gone by now."

"I thought the same thing," I said as I stuffed my phone back into my bag. "I'm not sure where Josh went to. He's usually out here."

"Josh is that officer that's supposed to look after you?"

I nodded.

"Well, I don't want to leave you out here alone," Jake replied. "Come with me. I'll give you a ride home."

I smiled my thanks and followed him to his truck. Climbing up and sitting in the passenger seat, I dialed Josh's number again and left a message in case he showed up at the nightclub later. He could have easily gotten the times of my shifts mixed up, but to be honest, I was a little worried. I didn't know him all that well, but I could tell he took his job seriously. He was always there to help me and was always on time. I was starting to wonder if I should call the police station just in case something bad happened to him.

"I wouldn't worry, Danni," Jake said as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Maybe he got a call or something."

"Yeah, maybe. It's just weird, that's all."

As we headed towards my apartment, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that was creeping through my chest. The streets seemed darker for some reason, cold and foreboding. In the back of my mind, I could hear the Joker's laughter, but I quickly pushed any idea of him away. From what I had heard and read, the clown was busy with other things, like robberies and bombing a couple new corporate buildings (whose construction, unsurprisingly, had been funded by Wayne Enterprises and Edinger). He obviously had other things on his mind and yesterday's bombing occurred on the other side of the city. He was nowhere near me.

By the time I was outside my apartment door, I had reassured myself that Josh's absence had nothing to do with the Joker or anything serious. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and made my way into the dark living room. It was extremely cold, the harsh November wind billowing in through an open window, but before I could close it, I felt another sensation reach my skin.

One gloved hand was quickly reaching around my waist while the other planted itself firmly over my mouth. His gloves smelled of gunpowder and cologne, a combination that left my heart beating frantically.

He pulled me into him, pressing my back against his chest.

"Hey there, dollface."


	4. Busy Business

Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It's a little shorter then I intended, but it'll work out. Enjoy! :]

***

I stood completely still, my rigid back pressed firmly against the Joker's chest. My lungs were barely breathing, and my heart had apparently stopped from the shock of feeling his body so close to mine. My mind was racing, and my eyes were darting across the darkened living room as they searched frantically through the shadows for an escape. Despite the anger and fear, I tried desperately to keep my demeanor calm.

The Joker's gloved hand rested over my mouth while the other was draped across my waist, his arm squeezing my midsection painfully. I could feel him burying his nose into my hair, taking in my scent as he drummed his fingers against my side. My stomach lurched and I began to wiggle against him.

"Ah ah ah," he chided, pulling my head back so that his cheek could rest gently against my own. His white and red greasepaint smeared against my skin.

"I just wanted to apologize for having left you in the snow last week," he said softly. "It was, uh, very _rude _of me."

He rubbed his painted skin against my soft cheek and moved his lips to my ear.

"Now," he whispered harshly, his grip tightening. "Where _were _we?"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for me after that. The arm around my waist was removed and his hand was soon in the pocket of his coat. I heard the familiar sound of a switchblade snapping open. I could feel his muscles twitching as he moved his weapon to my throat, but before he could press the blade into the sensitive skin, I brought the heel of my shoe down onto his foot and slammed my elbow into nearest part of him I could reach. Lucky for me, that just happened to be his stomach.

Gasping, coughing, and laughing, his hands slid off of my body to hold his stomach as he hunched forward in pain. Time sped up then, and I rushed towards the small end table next to the sofa. My hands fumbled through the drawer, searching desperately for the gun I kept there. I could hear him laughing and moving through the darkness, but I couldn't see him. I didn't even want to look. My heart was racing and it soon fell into despair when I realized that the gun was gone.

The ceiling lights in my living room turned on, burning my eyes with their sudden brightness. Squinting through the pain, I looked over to where the Joker now stood. His shoulder was resting comfortably against the wall near the light switch. His arms were crossed and one foot was crossed over the other nonchalantly. The make-up he wore was smudged and almost non-existent in some places, revealing the fair skin of his forehead and face.

"Looking for this?" he asked, holding out the side of his purple coat. My semi-automatic pistol sat comfortably against his hip, held in place by his brown belt. Smirking, he took hold of the handle and pulled it out. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"You know, I'm a little disappointed," he said, his eyes trailing over the gun in his hand. "I never took you for the gun-wielding type."

He glared at me from the corner of his eye and rushed forward. Before I had any time to react, he grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. I let a tiny squeak escape my lips when I felt the cold steel of the gun barrel pressing into the side of my face. His brown eyes were burning into me. One gloved hand rested behind my head, the fingers tangling themselves into my hair.

"Do you want to know why I use a knife?" he asked, his tongue flicking out and licking at his painted lips. When I didn't respond, he pressed the gun against my cheek even harder. "Well, I'll _tell_ you," he hissed. "Guns are too impersonal, too quick. You can't capture the victim's emotion. You can't feel their fear, and all the little things that makes it all worth while are lost."

He trailed the barrel of the gun down the side of my face and rested it under my chin.

He pulled my face closer to his as he spoke.

"All it takes is just one slip of the trigger finger and they're gone. No fuss, no mess. Now, tell me, where's the fun in that?"

I stared into his eyes intently. The last thing I wanted was for him to see that I was afraid.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly, though I tried to make my voice sound as confident as I could. He only smiled. "Are you here to kill me?"

At this, the Joker's smile widened, and his high-pitched laughter rung painfully in my ears.

"If I wanted to kill you," he replied, "you would be dead by now."

My eyes narrowed. "Then _why_ are you here?"

His smile faded a little. "Business."

Keeping one hand behind my head, he pushed his coat aside and secured the gun beneath his belt. My heart rate slowed down considerably once I realized that he wasn't here to kill me, but my curiosity was now growing considerably and my mind was racing with questions that I dare not ask. I should have called the police. I should have called Officer Rickman, but for reasons I can't explain, I didn't. A part of me wanted to know why he was here and why he chose not to kill me. My curiosity had always been stronger than my fear.

Letting go of me, the Joker strode quickly towards the kitchenette; he obviously trusted my intelligence to not try anything stupid. On the counter, I noticed a manila envelope, which was soon swept up by gloved hands.

When he turned to me, he had a cruel smile plastered across his painted face, and I felt my back stiffen.

"No need to be so serious," he said. Taking a seat on the sofa, he motioned for me to do the same.

"What kind _business _are you talking about?" I asked. I sat as far away from him as possible.

"Busy business," the Joker chuckled, tossing the envelope on the coffee table in front of me. It landed with a heavy thud, and I stared down at it cautiously. My name was printed neatly on the front, and I couldn't help but wonder if the penmanship was his. The envelope looked as if it were about to burst, and I could only imagine what kind of information it held. But then, maybe it held a bomb. This was the _Joker_, after all. I couldn't be too sure.

"You know, I didn't know who you were when I saw you in the alley," he said casually. I looked up at him and watched as he licked his lips. "I didn't even know that Sal Maroni _had _a kid, and if it weren't for the media, I wouldn't even be here right now, so I guess you have them to thank."

He paused and ran a hand through his greasy, greenish-blonde hair. "Oh, and the Gotham police too," he added, smiling. "They're _so_ confident, but little do they know, I had men infiltrating their department since Commissioner _Loeb_, but that's enough about _me_. Tonight is about you, _Danni_."

He scooted closer to me and I pressed myself against the arm of the sofa, as if it would protect me. The Joker wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him roughly, forcing my face to rest against the velvety softness of his coat. His distinct smell pushed its way into my nose. It was both inviting and frightening at the same time.

"You see that?" he asked, pointing to the over-stuffed envelope on the table. When I didn't answer, he dug his hand into my shoulder painfully, causing me to gasp. He lowered his head to mine and let his cheek brush against my hair. "When I ask you something, dollface," he warned quietly, "you better answer me. I might not be so nice next time. Now, do you see that?"

I nodded and he loosened his grip.

"In there is everything you _don't _know about your life. Police reports, e-mails, pictures, letters — your father kept a lot hidden from you, sweets. You think you hate him now, well, I can guarantee you that you don't know what _hate _is."

"My father's dead," I whispered, wondering if he knew.

"Yes, yes, I know. Dent— or should I say _Two-Face_ — made sure of that, but after you look through everything, your, uh, _hatred _will go far beyond your father. You see, the reason I'm here, dollface, is because I know potential when I see it. There isn't a doubt in my mind that you would have killed Edinger in that alley given the proper tools."

He rubbed my shoulder affectionately, though his grip was still incredibly painful. I winced, and felt my anger beginning to rise. I hated being in such a submissive and _patronizing_ position, especially to someone like the Joker. He was obviously someone who wanted to be in control, but so was I. As he spoke, I began to realize why exactly he was sitting with me in my living room. It didn't take a genius to know what he was trying to say: he wanted me to be on his little _team_.

"When I found out who you were, I was shocked. Really, I was," he explained. "Intrigued too, so I had some _friends _at the police station dig up a little dirt on you: plenty of arrests when you were younger, attempts at running away, police called to your house because dear old dad was beating on your mom. _That_ one broke my heart," he added sarcastically.

The anger that had been bubbling within my chest finally exploded, and I lashed out, pushing at him and clawing at his custom made clothes. The Joker laughed loudly when I landed a fist in his face. He was pushed back against the couch and I struggled to stand up. When I finally did, I made a break for the door, only to feel my face slamming against the carpet. I was soon on my back, the Joker pressing me into the floor with his weight. His hands were squeezing my wrists painfully as he held them above my head and my legs were trapped in between his strong thighs. He was laughing hysterically.

"A little fight in you," he said in between chuckles, his eyes bright with excitement. "I like that, and that's exactly what I'm looking for."

I turned my head to the side so that I wouldn't have to look at him.

"You're insane," I whispered.

Apparently, he didn't like that.

Holding my wrists with one hand, he took the other and gripped my chin painfully, forcing me to look at him. The excitement from his eyes had disappeared and was replaced with something I couldn't understand, something that frightened me beyond belief.

"No, I'm _not_," he replied deeply. "I'm _not_."

He pushed my face away from him and stood up.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a card, one that you would find in a deck of playing cards. Of course, it was a joker card, but there was a phone number scribbled beneath the figure. He tossed it onto the envelope and stared down at me.

I was still sprawled out on the floor, afraid to move and afraid to awaken whatever anger was hidden within him. He chuckled softly and let his scars do the smiling.

"I'd love to stay and, uh, chat, but I have things to do. After you have a look through the information and decide that you want to play my game, give me a call, and don't try calling the police. Like I said before, I have men throughout that department. Oh, and Officer _Rickman_? Yeah, he's one of them."

Chuckling loudly now, he made his way to the front door and paused. He turned his head to the side and stared at me, a cruel smile playing across his scarred face.

"You have two days to decide, dollface. Take it or leave it."

And with that, he was gone.


	5. Link in the Chain

I apologize if I slip out of first person!

***

I listened quietly as the Joker's footsteps disappeared down the hallway outside my apartment. I was still lying on my back in the middle of my living room, and I probably looked a little pathetic, stuck in place out of shock and as much as I hate to say it, fear. Sitting up, I ran a hand through my long, brown hair and did my best to gather my thoughts. The manila envelope sat ominously on top of the coffee table, beckoning me to open and read its contents. I slowly stood up and took a seat on the sofa, rubbing my bruised wrists as I did so.

I should have called Commissioner Gordon, if not for myself, then for the innocent people in Gotham, but I didn't. The police were the last thing I wanted to deal with. They had promised me privacy and protection, but how could they live up to such promises when their own men were clown lackeys. I should have expected nothing less, really. Throughout his life, my father had bought his way out of countless situations, paying both police and lawyers hefty sums of money to keep their mouths shut and to drop charges.

The justice system was corrupt and easily bribed, but mild-mannered men like Gordon still believed in truth and morality, two things that Gotham City definitely did _not_ have. I would have loved to believe in those things. I would give nothing more then to place myself in the light that seemed to blind people like Gordon and Batman, but the truth was that I couldn't. I couldn't pretend like I didn't know what the world was really like. If my father were alive, I'd thank him because his abuse towards my mother and I helped me realize just how cruel the world could be.

Sighing, I grabbed the manila envelope from the table and placed it in my lap. It was a lot heavier then it looked.

"Everything I _don't _know, huh?" I asked as I stared down at my name. I had to admit, I was curious. The Joker was crazy, yet oddly intriguing. His frenzied gestures, the way his tongue flickered when he spoke — it sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but relish the feeling. I unwrapped the tiny red string that held the envelope closed, but before I could open it, I heard a quiet knock at the door.

My first thought was Joker, but then he didn't seem like the knocking type. Slowly, I stood up and quietly made my way to the kitchenette. A small kitchen knife sat in the sink from lunch, and I grabbed it as a precaution. There was another knock and I shuffled towards the door, peering through the peephole. Joshua Rickman stood patiently in the hallway with his hands behind his back, and I felt my stomach tighten. I thought about leaving him out there, but he probably already knew I was inside, especially since he worked for the clown.

Gripping the handle of the knife, I opened the door to a crack and peered out.

"Hey, Danni," Josh greeted with a smile. "I, uh, wanted to apologize for not being there after your shift ended. I got an urgent call on the cruiser radio and I was the only one close enough to respond in time. Are, uh, you alright?"

He looked at me with a concerned expression, probably because I was still holding the door open a crack, looking at him with narrowed eyes. At one point in time, I had found his smile attractive, but now that I knew his officer persona was nothing more then an act, his kindness only angered me. I had to give it to him though; he was a good actor. He deserved an Academy Award.

"You can stop the act," I growled. "I know who you really work for."

"W-What do you mean?"

I opened the door a little wider. "Don't play dumb with me!" I spat, though my voice was only a whisper. "While you were out responding to that _urgent call_, your loony boss paid me a little visit."

Josh's mouth tightened and I could see the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"Perhaps I should come in," he said. "You know, to explain some things."

I closed the door to a crack again. "I don't think so."

I attempted to close the door completely, but Josh's foot got in the way.

"Look, _officer_, if you don't want Gordon to know about your side-line job —"

"He gave you the envelope, right?" His deep voice cut through mine like butter.

"Yes."

"And by the way you're acting, I'm assuming you haven't opened it. Look, I know you may not trust me right now, Danni, but there's some things you should know about the Joker. Here, you can hold on to my gun if it makes you feel better."

He removed the weapon from the hilt on his belt and held it out to me. My eyes traveled from him to the gun for a good ten seconds. My rational side was screaming at me to slam the door in his face and tell him to get lost, but my curious side was already snatching the gun from his hand and opening the door a little wider. I stepped back into the living room as Josh made his way inside and closed the door behind him. He turned to me, his eyes widening when he noticed the kitchen knife in my other hand.

"I'm not the Joker, you know."

I glared at him. "How long have you been working for him?"

Josh took a deep breath. "About three months now, going on four."

"That's it?" I asked, not trying to hide my surprise. "I figured that you were a veteran to the guy's circus."

Laughing slightly, Josh shook his head. "No, not quite. I met the Joker three months ago when he was arrested and interrogated. I was the one who searched and stripped him of his weapons before putting him in the holding cell. That man must have had at least ten blades in his coat alone."

For some reason, hearing Josh's laugh had relaxed me, but then, it could have been the fact that I had his gun and he was without a weapon. Nevertheless, he didn't seem like some hard-core thug. I sat down on the sofa, placing both the knife and gun on the end table, and motioned for him to take a seat.

"So you _are _a cop?" I asked once he was seated.

He nodded. "Yeah, I've been on the force for about three years."

"So why work for the Joker on the side?"

"I know this may sound crazy, but the guy actually makes sense. To him, everything that Batman and Gordon stand for — virtue, trust, morality — it's nothing but a joke to him, and I can't help but agree. You see, three months ago, if Batman had just unmasked himself, he could have saved lives. Things could have been handled differently."

"Don't you think the Joker would have killed anyways? Maybe Batman doesn't like negotiating with terrorists," I responded coolly.

Josh shook his head. "Batman is a vigilante, and I'm not the only officer who dislikes him. The truth is that Gotham only loves him when they need him, which just goes to show that everyone is selfish. You, me, and especially people like Batman. Morality really _is _nothing but a joke, at least in this city. Everyone is lying to themselves, and the Joker, well, he's just here to prove to them that they can't hide behind their feigned values."

He spoke adamantly, and I watched the muscles in his jaw tense and relax with each word. Leaning back, he rested his hands on his knees, smoothing out the fabric of his black pants. He looked so upstanding in his police uniform; it was hard to believe he was ever in league with someone like the Joker. We sat in silence for a long moment. My mind was fumbling through every pessimistic and morbid thing he said. It was hard to take with just one bite, but I did my best to swallow his words. The disturbing part was that I actually understood where he was coming from.

I decided to quickly change the subject.

"Why are you still an officer, Josh?"

Josh looked at me and then stared at the ground.

"The henchmen that stay with the Joker, they live behind their clown masks and their high-tech weapons while I live behind my GCPD shield. In a way, it's my own mask. I don't get my hands dirty because staying on the force is like the Joker's permanent job for me. When he needs information, I get it for him. It's how I was able to find a lot of the stuff that's in that envelope," he explained, gesturing towards the object that sat between us.

I nodded, staring down at the infamous envelope.

"I still don't get why he is so interested in me."

Josh only shrugged. "You're a link in the chain, Danni. He wouldn't be interested in you if you weren't somehow connected to what he's been doing, trust me."

"I don't think I want to be a part of this," I admitted quietly. "I'm not even sure I want to know what's inside this envelope. All it will do is bring back bad memories of a life I just want to forget. I don't want to relive the past."

"I don't blame you, really. From what I've read, your father made your life a living hell, and if I were in your shoes, I would want nothing but revenge." Josh leaned in closer to me, the look in his eyes now grave and slightly frightening. "The Joker can give you that revenge, Danni," he said quietly. "Even if you don't want it now, you will after seeing what's inside that envelope. Everything you need to know is in there."

He stood up then and reached over me quickly to grab his gun off of the side table. Despite myself, I felt my breath catch in my throat. He gave a small, reassuring smile and placed the weapon in its hilt, allowing me to breathe a small sigh of relief.

"I can't really say anymore then I have, so I'll let you have your privacy," he said as he made his way to the front door. "I'm going to head back to the station. You have two days to decide what you want to do, but I should warn you, the Joker doesn't usually take no for an answer."

I watched him as he left; his ominous last words hanging over me like darkened smog. If the Joker doesn't take no for an answer, did that mean I basically had no choice? That idea infuriated me. I felt as if I were trapped in a corner, much like I had my entire life, and it was an extremely unwelcoming sensation. I didn't want to be pressured into doing some guy's dirty work, but then, if what Josh said was true, blackmail might not be necessary.

My eyes traveled downward to the manila envelope in front of me. The idea of revenge was extremely tempting; the only problem was that the one man I wanted to destroy was already dead.

Could there really be others?

I knew there was only one way to find out. Taking the envelope in my hands, I opened it and rummaged through its contents before pulling out a random sheet of paper, which was crisp and tinged yellow with age. The first thing I noticed was that it was a police report form, my eyes having been immediately drawn to the title: "HOMICIDE REPORT."

The next thing that caught my attention made my heart drop. In the upper left hand corner beneath the heading were the words:

NAME OF DECEASED: MARONI, ISABELLA ANGELA.

My mother.

Her body had been found on January 14, 1994 in an alley off of Winton Avenue, a scummy street located within the Narrows of Gotham City. I was seven at the time and knew nothing of the details. My father kept the information away from me. All I knew was that my loving mother was gone, her life taken by a complete stranger, and I was never the same after she died. She had always been the one to love me and protect me. She had always stood up for me and had always taken the brunt of my father's abuse in an attempt to salvage what was left of my innocence. With her gone, I was forced to fend for myself, and when I was eighteen, I looked into the information regarding her murder.

The autopsy report declared that the cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the back of her head, an obvious homicide, but the police never found her killer. There was no apparent motive. Her wallet, jewelry, and expensive jacket had not been stolen and there hadn't been any indication of rape. There wasn't even a trace of foreign DNA on her body and the ballistic reports on the bullet turned up nothing. It was frustrating and heart breaking, especially when you take into account the heavy-populated area where her body had been found and the fact that no witnesses came forward.

Without any significant leads, the case eventually ran cold, but I always suspected my father.

The case was somewhat high profile, and he had always portrayed himself as the grieving widower, begging the media for privacy so the family could "heal". It was all a crock of shit, really. Even at the naïve age of seven, I knew that. He didn't love my mother. Whether he pulled the trigger or not, I could tell he was happier with her gone.

I sat back against the sofa, fresh tears streaming down my face and my mind burning with painful memories as I stared down at the police report. Despite my sadness, I felt a wave of anticipation flood my body. I desperately wanted to know who killed my mother, and I had a feeling that I would soon learn who was responsible. Setting the police report down on the coffee table, I picked up the envelope and pulled out a thin packet of printed e-mails that were held together with a paper clip. I read the first page slowly, my eyes widening at the names.

***

**David Edinger**

** From**: Salvatore Maroni

** Sent**: Wednesday, January 4, 1994 6:37 PM

The bitch is acting up again. I honestly don't know how much more I can take. She's threatening to leave. She thinks she can just walk away with the brat.

**Salvatore Maroni**

** From: **David Edinger

** Sent**: Thursday, January 5, 1994 2:34 PM

You're such a proud bastard, Sal. I say let the woman leave. At least you won't have to hear her bitch anymore.

**David Edinger**

** From**: Salvatore Maroni

** Sent**: Thursday, January 5, 1994 5:45 PM

Of course I'm proud. I'm a fucking Maroni, for Christ's sake, and I'm not about to let the whore walk away. The only way she's leaving me is in a body bag.

***

My heart was pounding in my chest, whether out of anticipation or anger, I couldn't quite say. My hands were shaking, the paper crinkly under my tightening grip as I turned the page. I read slowly, making sure not to skip over a single vile word. There must have been about thirty e-mails back and forth, the last one having been sent on January 12, the day before my mother's murder. My father and this David Edinger vaguely discussed plans for a hitman, an idea offered by Edinger himself. They didn't go into much detail, but their lack of words spoke volumes, and I felt the heated anger coursing through my body.

Slamming the e-mails on top of the police report, I grabbed the manila envelope and spilled the contents onto the couch beside me. I looked through the papers, my shaky hands fumbling through pages and pages of evidence.

There were numerous bank receipts, each one telling a story about how both my father and Edinger paid off the hitman and a few people in the Narrows. There was also a document that indicated that Edinger had donated a significant amount of money to the GCPD a few days before my mother was killed. No wonder the case went cold as quick as it did; the bastards bought their way out of it. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise, but the realization still angered me beyond belief.

There were also three photos among the pile of papers.

One was of David Edginer and the ebony haired man from the nightclub. They stood before a large building, their smiles wide and their hands locked in a firm handshake. On the back in neat penmanship: "FATHER AND SON". The second photograph was a black and white image of a young Sal Maroni and another man as they both laughed at something behind the camera. I immediately recognized this picture as one of the few my father had kept in his study while alive. I never knew who the other person was, at least not until now. Turning the photograph, I stared at the words written on the back: "EDINGER AND DADDY DEAREST".

The third picture was a crime scene photo.

I clasped a hand to my mouth at the sight of my mother's dead body, her face and dark brown hair covered in gore, her head drowning in a pool of her own blood. Her hands were sprawled out in front of her, her legs twisted awkwardly in the dirt. She was going to leave my father, save both of us before it was too late, but she never stood a chance. Closing my eyes, I let the anger, and information wash over me. My whole body was racking with fury and repressed sobs. It was almost too much to handle, and I sat there for hours, looking through the evidence again and again until my eyes dried and the pain became nothing but a dull sensation in my chest.

I slowly began to gather the papers and photographs together and slid them back into the envelope. As I did, I noticed that the card the Joker had left had fallen to the floor. After sealing the manila envelope, I reached down and picked it up, eyeing the number that was scribbled onto the back.

"_You're a link in the chain, Danni," _Josh's words echoed in my mind. _"He wouldn't be interested in you if you weren't somehow connected to what he's been doing, trust me."_

It was suddenly becoming all too clear.

The Joker wanted me for my connections to David Edinger, the man who was indirectly responsible for my mother's murder. He wanted me because he thought I could be motivated to not only help him destroy Edinger Construction and indirectly cause chaos, but also make Gotham a living hell for the police, the stupid bastards that let my father get away with everything he had ever done.

The Joker knew human emotions well, and he thought he could reawaken my desire for revenge.

Well, the Joker was _right_.


	6. Extended Vacation

This is incredibly late, so I apologize, but hopefully you guys like it.

Let me know what you think of it so far! :]

***

It was around three in the afternoon when I decided to head down to the police station. I had misplaced Joshua's cell phone number and was desperate to talk to him before I made any attempt to contact the Joker. Trudging through the snow in my black boots, I reached a busy street and hailed down a taxi.

"Where to, Miss?" the driver asked politely, stealing a gaze in his rearview mirror.

"The police station," I replied.

I adjusted my purple scarf so that it hugged neck tightly and hid the bruises that had formed during the night. Staring out the window, I focused my eyes on my translucent reflection. My eyes were puffy from crying and a lack of sleep, but I felt neither sadness nor exhaustion. I was numb, completely and utterly numb. I brushed back a few stray bangs from my face, and my fingertips left an icy sensation trailing across my forehead as I watched the large downtown buildings fly by the window.

Upon reaching the station, I paid the fare and hurried up the stone steps towards the front doors. I stepped into the lobby and was immediately greeted by a rush of warm air and the distant sound of telephones ringing. The secretary from before looked up from her desk and narrowed her eyes as I approached — she must've remembered me. I opened my mouth to speak when Gordon emerged out of the holding cell area with another man by his side.

"Ms. Maroni?" he greeted with an uneasy voice, "is everything alright?"

I did my best to force a smile.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to speak with Officer Rickman."

As I spoke, I stole a glance at the tall man standing proudly beside Gordon, wondering why he looked so familiar. He wore a light gray pin-stripped suit with a maroon tie and his brown hair was combed neatly to the side. He was quite handsome, though he seemed like the uptight business type. His hazel eyes caught my own, piercing me with curiosity and forcing me to avert my attention to the commissioner, who was now smoothing down his moustache.

"Rickman is out on a call," Gordon said, "but he should arrive shortly. If you'd like, you can wait in my office while I finish a few things up with Mr. Wayne, here."

_Bruce Wayne_.

I looked up at the billionaire in front of me, my eyes widening for reasons I didn't really know. No wonder he looked so familiar; I had seen him countless times on the covers of magazines, newspapers, and a few times on the news. He was a celebrity in Gotham — the kind of person you hear about but never actually see in person, so it was a weird feeling being face to face with him. I didn't have to question why he was here, knowing that it most likely had to deal with the Joker and the recent bombings and robberies that occurred during the week.

After the unexpected introduction, I watched as the two men made their way across the lobby before entering the holding cell area. My eyes traveled across the room briefly, looking for any sign of Josh, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring the jeers and taunts from the scum in the jail cells, I entered Gordon's office, closed the door, and plopped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. I stared vacantly at the papers on the tabletop as my mind wandered back to Bruce Wayne. He had seemed troubled, and considering his company's current problem, that shouldn't be a surprise, but there was something else.

When he looked at me, his eyes had been full of curiosity, but what else? Concern? Worry? _Suspicion_? I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and it was slightly unnerving. Even if he knew who I was, it would be impossible for him to know about the history of my mother and my current motives. My father was the villain, so why be suspicious of me? I mean, Gordon obviously trusted me enough; he was allowing me to be alone in his office.

I smiled at that thought and leaned forward to look at the papers on the desk, which consisted mostly of police reports and criminal records. Nothing particularly interesting, that is, until I noticed the file labeled "Joker." After glancing behind me at the closed door and making sure it was safe, I snatched the file from the desk and opened it.

His grinning mug shot greeted me first, his scars pulling the dry, white skin of his cheeks upward into a unique smirk. I stared into the dark eyes, brown orbs that were smeared with blackish-gray insanity, and found myself captivated by the man. He had caused more chaos in a few months than any mobster had in years. He had turned Gotham upside down, had left the police force tripping over countless bodies, and had ripped off the most powerful men in the city, my father included.

More shocking, however, was the fact that he had almost succeeded in bringing down Batman.

_Almost_.

I gently flipped through the other papers held within the file: a transcript from the Joker's brief interrogation, homicide reports, crime scene photos — I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the picture of a man with his cheeks ripped open in a mock smile. It was a grisly reminder of what I was getting myself into, but even that wasn't completely known. Needless to say, the Joker had been abrupt in his explanation as to what my use was to him. He had let the evidence from my mother's murder do the talking, but it wasn't enough. Not for me, anyways, which was the reason I had come to the station to talk to Josh. I wanted revenge, but I wasn't about to walk blindly into a situation like this one.

From behind the closed office door, I could hear Gordon's approaching voice, so I quickly placed the file back on the desk and adjusted the papers to their original position. I had just sat back in my chair when the commissioner walked in.

"I apologize for the wait, Ms. Maroni," he said politely as he sat down behind his desk. "Mr. Wayne just offered to fund the annual GCPD Formal and he donated quite a bit to this year's charity."

Gordon was clearly excited and I smiled.

"That's wonderful of him," I replied sincerely.

At least _someone _in the city was doing some good, though I didn't think the police deserved any money what so ever — not after I learned the truth about their feigned morals. Granted, there were probably some decent cops out there in Gotham, but I chose to look at the system as a whole.

The commissioner nodded enthusiastically at my statement, but his smile soon faded and he looked up at me with a serious expression.

"Has the Joker tried contacting you, Ms. Maroni?"

I should have expected as much. Shaking my head in response, I could only hope that my voice would sound convincing.

"No, thankfully, he hasn't," I lied. "I was hoping to speak with Officer Rickman about a change in my schedule. I'll be switching shifts at my job starting tonight, and with everything going on lately, I guess forgot to mention it to him. I was in the city, so I thought I would stop by, but if he's not here, I'm sure I can count on someone to leave him the message."

What a crock of shit _that _was, but it obviously worked because Gordon's expression softened and he sat back in his chair, looking relieved.

"Well, he should be back by fairly soon. I spoke to him a few moments ago and he said he was close to the station."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the office door.

"That's probably him," Gordon said. "Come in."

I stood up along with the commissioner as Josh opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Maroni," he greeted politely. "I heard you needed to speak with me?"

"Yes," I replied slowly, my eyes darting quickly to the side. I could see Gordon standing behind me out of my peripheral vision. Josh was staring at me with a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised in what I alone knew to be mock curiosity. He already knew what I had come for. "I'm changing shifts at the club, starting tonight," I said quickly. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Alright. What time do you start?"

"Five, but I told my boss I'd be there early. It's supposed to be a busy evening."

Josh nodded and casually looked at his wristwatch. "Well, it's almost three thirty. Do you need a ride?"

I nodded and after saying goodbye to commissioner Gordon, we both headed out the back towards one of the patrol cars. I got in hastily, feeling a little paranoid. Leaning my head back against the headrest, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" I asked as Josh buckled his seat belt and started the car. He shook his head and began pulling out of the parking space.

"Commissioner Gordon is a good guy," he explained, making sure the cruiser radio was turned off, "but he can be somewhat naïve. To him, you're a victim and that's all you can be right now. I doubt he thinks you're involved with the Joker. Besides, he shouldn't have a reason because you're _not _involved — yet."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye expectantly before breaking at a stop light and we sat in silence until the car was moving again.

"I'm guessing you made a decision already?"

I nodded quietly, taking the manila envelope from out of my shoulder bag. I placed it in my lap and stared down at it, anger and sadness welling up in my chest.

"I want Edinger to pay," I stated quietly. "I want Edinger to pay for what he did to my mother and I want the Gotham Police to suffer for letting him and my father get away with it."

"The Joker thought you might feel that way," Josh replied. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black Nokia and, after flipping it open, handed it to me along with one of the Joker's signature business cards. "Dial the number and then hand the phone back, please."

I did as he asked and watched as he patiently waited for someone to answer on the other end. The sound of the telephone's muffled ringing made my heart beat faster in anticipation and when it abruptly stopped, I felt it stop altogether.

"Boss? It's Rickman," Josh said quietly as he looked over his shoulder and changed lanes.

"Joshy boy!"

It was the only distinct thing I heard the Joker say, but it was enough. I stared out the window absently and listened to Josh explain how I was agreeing to be a part of the Joker's sick and twisted plans. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Josh looking at me with an unreadable expression as he listened to his boss.

"Tonight?" Josh asked, focusing his eyes back on the road. We were driving down my street, my apartment complex sitting a few yards away. He pulled the car over to the curb and put it in park. "Corner of Willet and Bailey, got it," he repeated, leaning back in his seat. "Huh? Oh, yeah, she's sitting right next to me."

There was a long pause and I could hear the Joker's muffled voice. He was speaking quickly, and I wondered if Josh could even understand him because all he was doing was nodding quietly. He eventually held the phone out to me and I stared down at it in confusion.

"He, uh, wants to talk to you."

I slowly took the cell phone and pressed it against my ear.

"Hello?"

"Why, hello there, _Ms._ Maroni," the Joker replied deeply. The sound of his masculine voice sent a shiver down my spine. "I hear you have accepted my offer? Yes, yes, of _course_ you have. Why wouldn't you? I'm irre-_sistible_!" His voice broke and he laughed loudly, his high-pitched tone ringing painfully in my ears.

"What do you want?" I asked irritably, holding the phone out a little in case his laughter got the best of him again. He must not have liked my tone because his voice became deep and harsh.

"What do I _want_?" he repeated dangerously. "I'll tell you what I _want_. I want _you_ to pack your _things _and be at the corner of Willet and Bailey by dusk. If any other cop is with you besides Rickman, you die, got that?"

When I didn't respond, he chuckled lightly. "Good. Now, be a good girl and hand the phone back to Joshy."

I could feel my face burning red with anger and I was gripping the phone so tightly I thought it would break. Josh must have seen this because he quickly took it away from me.

"I'll have her there tonight, Boss," he said quickly, fumbling with the phone before resting it comfortably on the side of his face. I was out of the car before he hung up, slamming the door as hard as I could and hoping the Joker could hear it. I marched up the stairs towards the apartment lobby with Josh soon at my heels.

"You can't really expect anything else from him," he said quietly as we made our way up the stairs. "The guy is a control freak and he doesn't appreciate any attitude."

I spun around quickly, my green eyes flashing with irritation.

"Don't you think I realize that?" I whispered harshly. "I've spent my entire life around egotistical, controlling men so I _know _what they're like."

Josh shook his head. "He's different, Danni."

I rolled my eyes and continued up the stairs. "I don't need a lecture, Officer Rickman. Just tell me what the plan is so I at least know what to expect."

***

When we reached my apartment, I closed and locked the door and set my shoulder bag down on the kitchenette counter. Leaning against the wall, I stared at Josh expectantly, who stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded across the chest.

"Two of the Joker's lackeys will pick you up on the corner of Willet and Bailey and take you to the hideout," he explained. "You'll be blindfolded because the location is a secret — _I _don't even know where it is, but once you're there, things will be explained further. I'm not at liberty to discuss the Joker's plans-in-progress."

"He told me to pack my things. How long will I be staying there?"

Josh expression darkened slightly. "He told me to tell you to think of it as an _extended_ vacation, which in Joker talk means a pretty long time. He likes to keep track of his team. You know, keep an eye on them. The only people who don't stay with him in the hideout are people like me, who needed to keep up a public image in order to do their job. If you want my honest opinion, don't expect to be coming back any time soon."

I ran a hand through my brown hair and stared at the carpeted floor. I really hadn't expected anything less, but hearing it was still painful. I was throwing away my life and destroying everything I had done to bring myself out of the life my father had created for me, and for what? Vengeance? Pay back? Would it really be worth it? I glanced around my apartment and shuddered when I realized how foreign of a place it was to me right then. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, finding out the truth about my mother's murder changed me. Deep down, I knew I couldn't pretend. I couldn't act sit back and act like the world was a just place.

The Gotham Police had refused to administer justice the right way, and so it was up to me.

***

I spent the next few hours packing things into a large duffle bag: clothes, shoes, and toiletries. I was told to pack light, which irritated me, because I had no clue as to where I was going or what the accommodations would be like. However, according to Josh, if I absolutely needed something, the Joker would have a way to get it. I apparently wasn't allowed to bring cell phones, pagers, or anything else that people could track me with, which I could understand, but the fact that I couldn't bring my own weapons was unnerving. By the time I was finished, I had successfully packed about one-forth of my closet and had nearly uprooted my entire house.

Josh was sitting on the couch in living room, waiting patiently for me to finish on the phone. I was calling Jake at the nightclub to let him know that I would be out of town at my non-existent aunt's house because the reporters and paparazzi were getting to be too much of a burden and because I simply needed to get out of Gotham. It was all a lie, of course, and the fact that he was being incredibly nice about it made me feel guilty. After hanging up, I turned off my phone and placed it on the coffee table.

The sun was beginning to set, splashing different shades of yellow and pink onto my cream-colored carpet. The room looked serene and peaceful, dark except for the coloring in the windows and on the floor. I followed Josh out and took one last look at the place. I expected myself to feel lonely and miserable, but the real sad part was that I felt nothing at all.

***

We reached the corner of Willet and Bailey a little after dusk, two streets that were at the southern end of the Narrows. The area was completely desolate of people and extremely cold. I stood at the corner with my duffle bag hanging off of my shoulder and the collar of my coat lifted so that it partially covered my face from the harsh winter wind. Josh sat in the police cruiser across the street, watching the road intently for any sign of life.

The sky grew darker and a few of the streetlights flickered and hummed and after what seemed like hours, I saw the blinding white headlights of an approaching car. The black sedan pulled up in front of me and I looked over the hood towards Josh, who nodded to me and then waved at the driver of the car. After making sure no one else was around, I got into the car and settled into one of the back seats. The interior smelt like cigarette smoke, which was no surprise, since there was about a dozen empty brand-name boxes lying on the floor.

"Danielle Maroni?"

His voice was incredibly close, and I looked up expecting to see the man in the passenger seat, but all I saw was black. He had quickly covered my face with some type of blanket and then proceeded to tie a blindfold around my already covered eyes. The pressure was slightly painful, but not unbearable, and it definitely wasn't surprising. Josh had told me to stay quiet and not make a fuss, so that's what I decided to do.

"Is it on tight?" the driver asked.

"Yeah, she can't see nothing," the man in the passenger seat replied. He told me to lie down across the seats and the car soon surged forward, speeding down the streets of the Narrows with screeching tires. The drive was about two hours long and oddly quiet — no sounds of traffic, no sounds of people or bustling crowds, no sounds of construction, which meant that the Joker's hideout was not anywhere in Gotham. If anything, it was closer to the countryside, but I couldn't be too sure.

The car eventually slowed and stopped, and I could hear the two men get out of the car. One of them opened up my right-side door and helped pull me up and out onto my feet. Once out in the fresh air, I immediately recognized the scent of pine trees and the sound of crickets. One of the men gripped my upper arm tightly and slowly guided me across what sounded like a gravel walkway.

"Watch your step," he warned, but I lost my footing and slammed my side against a wooden staircase. The man quickly seized my arm and pulled me up harshly. "What good are you for if you can't follow directions, huh?" he growled.

My heart pounded angrily in my chest.

"Treat the lady with respect, Chuckles. She ain't a hostage. She's a member of the team, got it?"

_Chuckles_ snorted irritably and I rolled my eyes from underneath my eyelids as I continued up the stairs carefully. Once we were inside the hideout, I heard a series of voices around me, maybe about seven different men not including the two who had picked me up. I stood motionless as the blindfold was untied and the blanket removed. Though the light in the room was dim, I couldn't help but be blinded by it.

I soon realized that it wasn't a room at all, but rather a wide hallway with large, wooden doors running along both walls. The walls themselves were a rich blue with a purple base, though the paint was chipping in various places. Gray columns were nestled comfortably in between each door, sprouting out from the purple base and reaching up towards the vaulted ceiling. The wooden floor was covered in water-stains and a filthy, patterned rug that stretched down the hallway towards a darkened staircase.

It was either an abandoned mansion or a run down hotel, but I could tell it used to be beautiful. If it weren't for the cobwebs, the mysterious dark stains on the rug, and the red splatter on the walls, it might have even felt welcoming, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

"She's pretty cute for a Maroni."

I glared over to my left at the burly man with greasy black hair and hazel eyes. He smiled at me with a mouth full of missing teeth. The other men laughed in response to his statement and I felt myself stiffen defensively when a hand caressed my shoulder.

"Ya think Boss will let us have some fun with her when he's done with her?" the man behind me asked. My stomach dropped and I found myself wishing I had brought my switchblade. I wanted desperately to give them a piece of my mind, to plant a fist into all of their lustful faces, but I knew the odds were against me. Josh had warned me that if things got dangerous like this, to just remain quiet, and I trusted him more than anyone else at this point.

Crossing my arms, I moved away from the man who had been touching my shoulder, but he apparently didn't like that. Growling angrily, he pulled me into him and pressed my chest against his. His breath smelt strongly of alcohol and his dark eyes were wild with irritation and lust. He leaned forward to press his lips against mine, but I quickly turned my head to the side and struggled against his grip.

"Aw, Grumpy, you're scaring the poor dame," Chuckles laughed.

"_She _isn't the one who needs to be _scared_."

Grumpy's eyes shot open and he quickly released me, pushing me away with so much force that I fell back onto the floor. My face landed against a pair of brown leather shoes and I looked up slowly into the Joker's smiling face. His make-up looked fresh, as if he had applied it only moments before, and his green-blonde hair was brushed into an odd-looking and messy comb-over. He stared down at me for a moment and then glared up at Grumpy.

"Now, now, just _what _did you think you were _doing_, Grumps?" he asked casually as he played with something in the pocket of his purple trench coat. He stepped over me and made his way over to Grumpy, whose face was pale white. His lips parted with the words that were probably too scared to leave his mouth.

The Joker chided him playfully, wagging his finger in front of his face. "Did, uh, you think you would get _lucky_ tonight? Hmm?"

Grumpy shook his head.

The Joker pursed his lips. "No? Just being, ha, _friendly_, huh?"

The lackey's enthusiastic nod was cut short by the Joker, who gripped his chin painfully with one hand and pressed a knife to the inside of one cheek with the other. His eyes were flashing with anger, his scowl pulling his scars downward. Grumpy stared at his boss desperately, his body trembling. The other men stood with their backs against the wall. I had finally found the strength to get to my feet and now stood in the middle of the hallway, watching the Joker intently.

"Well, _Grumps_," he said with an angry, red-smeared smile, "since Ms. Maroni will be staying with us for a _while_, I think it's time we, uh, nip your little _lust _problem in the _bud_, don't you?"

The only response was a shrill cry of pain. In one swift motion, the Joker had brought his blade from the inside of the lackey's mouth and sunk it deeply in between his legs. He now lay crumbled on the ground in the fetal position, his hands clutching his genitals in an attempt to stop the pain and profuse bleeding. The rest of the men watched Grumpy with white, fearful faces as the Joker wiped off his knife with his handkerchief. Placing the blade back into this coat pocket, he turned to me and shrugged.

"How's _that _for a welcoming party!" he chuckled loudly. He strode over to me happily and, gripping my arm painfully, began leading me down the hall towards the stairs.

"Boss? What should we do with Grumpy?" one of the men called out.

The Joker stopped and turned around with dangerous speed, forcing the men to back up subconsciously. He stared down at the bloody mass on the floor and chewed the inside of his scarred cheek.

"Nothing," he replied with a wave of his hand, "but, uh, if he _dies_, then clean up the mess."

He gave me a quick, toothy grin and continued to pull me up the stairs by my arm. My legs were numb from shock and I desperately tried to maintain my balance. I had no clue where I was going or what would happen to me at that point.

All I knew was that it was going to be a long night.


	7. Darkest Before Dawn

Here's another chapter for you guys! Lots of stuff has been going on, so I thank you for your patience. Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I really appreciate it! :D Anyways, here we go!

* * *

"Where are you dragging me to?" I asked in a harsh whisper.

By the time we reached the top of the stairs, I was almost fully recovered from the initial shock of seeing the Joker brutalize one of his own men; I was now desperate for information. Much to my disappointment, however, the Joker didn't respond. He merely squeezed my arm painfully and pulled me closer to his back, almost causing me to trip over his heels. Staring over his shoulder, I noticed a short staircase at the end of the hallway. A tall, wooden door sat at the top and a small light clung to the wall, casting a dim glow against the surrounding shadows.

The Joker scaled the steps in two long strides, and, with his free hand, fished out a large key from his pocket. He yanked me closer to his body and hastily unlocked the door.

"Inside," he said gruffly, pulling me forward into the darkened room. I stumbled for a few seconds before my foot caught on the edge of a heavy rug and I fell hard against the floor. The door was soon slammed shut, extinguishing the small source of light emanating from the hallway. I gingerly lifted myself up onto my feet and could hear the Joker moving. He was across the room, but not being able to see him left the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Is there no light in this room?" I called out.

For a moment, there was silence, then, the sound of footsteps drawing near and floorboards creaking under the Joker's weight. I soon felt his body close to mine, his unique scent filling my nostrils and stiffening my spine. I shuffled backwards until the backs of my legs were pressed against a small table, but the Joker closed the gap. The velvety texture of his coat brushed against my cheek and I found myself desperately wanting to be back in my apartment, away from the maniac clown and his lustful group of lackeys.

Light from a dirty chandelier soon poured into the room — bright, yellow light that seared through the darkness and burned my eyes. I closed them quickly only to pry them open again when I sensed the Joker move in front of me.

"You can thank me anytime now, dollface," he said smugly.

I squinted as the pain slowly began to subside. The Joker's smile was pulling his scars upward, tugging at the skin awkwardly and cracking his red and white face paint. I could see the muscles in his jaw working at he chewed the inside of his right cheek and watched me. I knew what he wanted and why he wanted it, but my pride wouldn't allow me to acknowledge the efforts of someone like the Joker, especially when he was more dangerous than any other man in the building.

"Thank you for _what_?" I responded coldly.

I expected anger or even nonsensical laughter, but I got neither. In fact, I got no response at all. The Joker merely turned his back to me and walked towards the opposite side of the room with his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back. He stopped in front of a large window and moved the curtain to one side, peering into the darkness as if he were expecting someone to show.

My own eyes were gazing around the large room, which was more like an apartment than anything else. We were standing in what could easily be described as a spacious living room, with two antique, dark blue sofas in the corner and cherry wood end tables on either side. Closest to the Joker was a small kitchenette, marked by the counters and an ancient mini-fridge. The light from the chandelier had illuminated everything, making the white walls hard to focus on, so I let my eyes settle on a narrow hallway in the left-hand corner and wondered where it led.

"Batman."

My eyes snapped back to the Joker, who was still standing by the window. "Excuse me?"

He turned to me, his eyes flashing with excitement and anger and his white-painted face brighter than I expected.

"Earlier you asked me what I wanted. _Well_," he explained adamantly, "what I _want _is the _Bat_man. I thought my escape from Arkham would have brought him out of his little cave, but it hasn't! And do you know _why_?"

I shook my head and quietly answered no. I knew from experience that not answering his questions meant bruises and what I needed most right now was to be on his good side.

His voice was dangerously low, so low that his words almost didn't reach my ears.

"Because," he growled. "Because to Gotham, he's the _villain_, which I, uh, would _love _if it was actually true because that would mean I broke him, but it's no-_t_. It's a lie and I _hate _lies. Batman thinks he's clever, and he is. Oh, yes, he is, but you see, his little _plans_. They don't _work_. He's trying to save this little city from people like me and from the truth that _was _Harvey Dent, but I'll tell you one thing, baby-doll, this city hasn't seen _anything _yet."

He started laughing then, and I could only imagine what he was thinking. After a moment, he leaned against the wall and stared at me, his hollowed-out eyes and piercing gaze making me feel self-conscious.

"So you're attacks on Wayne Enterprise and Edinger Construction are just to lure out the Batman from wherever he's hiding?" I asked, crossing my arms.

The Joker chewed his scars and smacked his painted lips. "You could say that. You could also say that I just like to put on a good show."

I rolled my eyes. I didn't really care about the Joker's desire to catch up with the Caped Crusader. I cared about one thing and one thing only.

"When do I get Edinger?"

"Patience, baby-doll, patience" the clown chided playfully. "You should know that I don't plan. I sort of let things flow. You'll get your chance to shine. On one condition, that is."

I placed one hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "And what condition would that be?"

He gave me a twisted half smile, his eyes glinting mischievously as he approached. My mind was screaming at me to back up and to run, but my body wouldn't comply, and before I knew it, he was towering over me, his figure partially silhouetted by the chandelier light. My heart was pounding so loudly, I'm sure he could have heard it. Lowering his head, he let his cheek rest against mine, his lips gently grazing my flesh and causing me to gasp lightly. Smiling, he squeezed my shoulders with gloved hands. His scent was intoxicating and I found myself leaning into him, craving something I couldn't understand.

His breath was hot on my neck. I felt as if I were floating.

"Drive."

His voice brought me back to reality and I pulled back, uncaring of how confused I looked. The Joker merely chuckled and lowered his hands from my shoulders.

"You, uh, asked what the condition was. It's that you drive, at least for tonight. Grumpy is my usual driver, but as you know, he's a little _indisposed_ at the moment."

I guess he took my lack of response as a "yes, sir" because he began to gather his things and place them in a black duffel bag.

I watched him quietly, my face feeling as if it were on fire, which probably meant that my cheeks were bright red. His touch had sent shivers running down my spine, but it wasn't out of fear. I had _liked _it — was that even possible? I had leaned into him, subconsciously wanting more, and now, as I watched him search the room for what he called his "lucky knife", I couldn't help but wonder what his scars felt like and how he _really _got them. I felt ashamed, but I didn't know if it was because of my actions or because I let him do this to me.

It was probably a little bit of —

My thoughts were shattered when a pair of car keys smacked me in the face. I caught them before they hit the ground and glared at the Joker, who was now fitting various blades in the inside of his coat and eying me curiously. When he was done, he opened the door to the outside hallway and motioned for me to follow. I stood behind him while he banged on doors, whistling and calling for his men as if they were trained dogs.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to know where this place was," I said as we made our way towards the staircase.

The Joker smirked and sat on the edge of the wrought-iron stair railing. "That was just a precaution," he replied, scooting himself until he was sliding down towards the first floor. He landed clumsily on his feet. "I can tell that you, uh, _really _want to get Edinger, and you're going to need to know your way around anyways — last one down here ends up like Grumps!" he yelled irritably, causing me to jump and almost trip as I descended the stairs.

The sound of feet pounding on the floor echoed throughout the foyer and a group of men soon appeared at the top of the stairs. I stood behind the Joker slightly, unsure as to what would happen.

"Uh, boss?" one of the men spoke up. "Grumpy — he's uh, he's not doing so good."

"He's dead," another one chimed in.

Crossing his arms, the Joker turned around and began walking towards the front door.

"I said the last one down here ends up like Grumpy," he called out. He smiled, revealing a set of straight, yellow teeth. "Oh, and I _meant _it."

* * *

The car was a white commercial van with tinted windows and gum on floor. The only seats were the driver and front passenger, but two long benches had been installed in the back. They were capable of seating ten, but, being a man of his word, the Joker disposed of the one unfortunate man who had made it down the stairs last. Now, he was sitting next to me, giving me directions and listening to his lackeys as they whispered. There were numerous explosives, guns with ammunition, and containers of gasoline sitting beneath the benches.

Needless to say, I was a little uneasy, which was obvious since I kept looking back at the group of men in my rearview mirror.

"Keep your eyes on the road," the Joker whispered. His eyes were full of intensity and anticipation. I could tell that he was excited, but for what exactly, I didn't know. By the time we made it to the outskirts of Gotham, it was early morning, though the sky was blacker than it had been a few hours ago.

I parked in a darkened alley next to a warehouse as instructed and watched as the men gathered their weapons. From my spot in the driver's seat, I could see the Gotham Harbor, which meant we were in an industrial area, possibly near some shipping docks, and twenty minutes away from downtown. Beside me, the Joker was rummaging through his black duffel bag.

"Take this."

I stared down at the handgun, but didn't take it, so he dumped it in my lap.

"If someone comes up to this van, shoot them," he said, his voice stern and void of any compassion. He gave me one last look, as if to make sure I understood, and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. I expected the group of men to stay together, but while the Joker hurried around the corner towards the opening in the warehouse, his lackeys ran off in the opposite direction with most of the explosives.

Sighing, I stared down at the handgun that now rested comfortably in my lap. I sort of felt as if I were in a dream, but I was numb and unsure as to whether or not I wanted to be woken up. I was feeling an odd mixture of dread and excitement — excitement for the revenge I knew was to come, but dread for all those who would get in the way. I had always believed an "eye for an eye"; you hurt me, I hurt you. However, I would never want to hurt others simply because they got in my way, and I was fortunate enough to not have anyone come up to the van while I was waiting.

I didn't know whether I would have the heart to shoot them.

* * *

By the time the Joker and the others returned, the sky was fading into a starry blue, signaling that it was time to go and "watch the fireworks." However, instead of going back the way we came, the Joker instructed me to drive past the GCPD police station.

"I have a small present for our lovely commissioner," he said, pulling a small tape labeled "Gordy" out from the black duffel bag. He placed it in a manila envelope along with one of his cards and sealed it. "Just, uh, toss it onto the steps. They'll know what to do."

I nodded and steered the van out of the alley and onto the nearest freeway. The Joker slouched low in his seat, crossing his arms and looking lazily outside the passenger side window. There was complete silence, aside from the engine and outside traffic. The men in the back were beginning to drift off.

"What's on the tape?" I asked quietly.

The Joker let out a breathy laugh. "Bait."

"Bait?"

"Bat bait."

"Oh. Do you think it'll work?"

Instead of replying with words, the Joker merely lifted his hand to show me that two of his fingers were crossed. The street lamps were causing eerie shadows to play across his face, and although his eyes were closed, I knew he wasn't asleep. One of his hands was twitching, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. Staring at him out of the corner of my eye, I was completely awed by how gentle he looked. Even with the face paint, wacky clothes, and intimidating scars, he looked serene and even — _handsome_?

I shook my head furiously and willed myself to focus. He was _anything_ but gentle — was I going insane? I tried desperately to pull myself together, to mentally slap some sense into me, but I knew it was too late.

I was in deep, getting deeper with each passing minute.

Even with my doubts, I knew there was no turning back.


	8. A Man of His Word

Hmm. Not quite sure where I want to go. There's so many possible directions. :P

Anyways, I hope you're enjoying the story thus far. If it seems a little slow, it's because I'm planning on a looot more chapters. Please let me know what you think.. I could use the feedback. :]

***

After we made our drive by past the police station, the Joker was more alert, his blackened eyes monitoring the streets to make sure no one was following us. The sky was lightening as the sun began to rise, swirling the horizon with pale pinks and yellows. The street we were on was eerily quiet, marked by abandoned buildings and garbage in the street. The only sound was that of the engine, humming and revving as I pushed my foot on the gas pedal.

For reasons I didn't know, the Joker insisted on going this way, though it was in the opposite direction of where we would need to go to reach the hideout. I had no idea where we were going, which was both unnerving and exhilarating, but I knew to drive straight until told otherwise.

The Joker sighed loudly, causing me to divert my attention to his relaxing figure. Seemingly satisfied that no one was following, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a small smirk playing across his mutilated mouth as he closed his eyes.

I couldn't help but stare.

He was mesmerizing, the type of person that had your attention the moment you laid eyes on him. Whether that was because of the make-up, I wasn't sure, but there was something about his attitude, his demeanor, and his voice that was utterly enthralling. I had the sudden urge to reach out and touch his scars, but I refrained, knowing it would probably release the anger that seemed bubbling within him constantly.

Instead, I kept my eyes on the road as best I could.

The silence continued. That is, until —

"Why do you, uh, keep _looking _at me?"

I glanced to my right, my eyes wide with embarrassment. He was staring at me with his penetrating gaze, his arms crossed, head tilted to the side in curious amusement. His permanent red smile was sending shivers down my spine, and I could feel my cheeks begin to redden.

"I don't," I replied, though I knew as well as he did that it was a lie.

The Joker shifted in his seat so that he was leaning towards me, his elbows pressed into the armrest, his painted face closer than I would have liked.

"Is it the _scars_?" he whispered dangerously. "I never did tell you how I got them, did I, baby doll?"

I swallowed hard and looked in the rearview mirror, making sure the men in the back of the van were still asleep. He was trying to intimidate me, make me scared for what was to come next, and though he somewhat succeeded, I willed myself to remain strong. He was a dangerous man, but I was a stubborn woman, and I wouldn't be taken down so easily.

"If I wasn't driving this van, I'd slap that smirk right off your painted face," I growled and kept my eyes on the road the entire time. The Joker was silent for a moment, but his voice soon emerged in the form of a deep, throaty chuckle, and before I knew it, his hand was on thigh.

"You know, I could never resist a woman who likes to take control." His voice was low and dangerous. His hand moved up. "You might want to watch what you say."

He squeezed my thigh painfully before pulling back and sitting in his seat. In the silence that ensued, I tried desperately to calm my franticly beating heart. My skin still burned from his touch, as if his hand was still there, but the pain wasn't the problem. The problem was how I had inwardly responded to him, how my heart raced not out of fear, but out of something I wasn't ready to admit. It was something I _couldn't_ admit. I refused to.

"Turn right up here," the Joker instructed, and I did, thankful for the break in silence.

***

It was an old, dingy hotel with dust covering every surface and cobwebs stretching out from every corner. I stared around with a look of disgust, following the Joker as he hurried his way through the lobby towards the front desk. He had his black duffel bag swung over one shoulder, his contents clashing together as he walked. On the tabletop was a small silver bell and its shrill ring filled the empty room as a purple-gloved hand came crashing down on top of it.

"I hear ya! I hear ya!" came the reply from the back room. "Hold your damned horses!"

The man who emerged was overweight and almost as dirty as the building itself. He wore a white shirt that was stained yellow near his armpits and his ripped blue jeans were covered in dirt. His balding head reveled the stretched-out skull tattoo on his scalp. At the sight of the Joker, his eyes widened in surprised.

"I wasn't expectin' you here for 'nother week," he said.

"Yeah, well, plans change," the clown responded. "I need one more room."

The landlord crossed his arms and smiled, revealing several missing teeth. "Well, bills are due soon. You got the cash?"

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Always _money_ with you," he chided, though there was noticeable irritation in his voice. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two wads of unmarked bills, and placed it on the desk. "That should be more than enough to keep you, uh, satisfied."

The old man's gaze went past the purple suit in front of him and landed on me, his eyes flashing with what I recognized as desire and lust. I could feel him undressing me in his mind and I glared at him fiercely.

"Heh, who's this behind you?" he questioned playfully. "Gimme some time with her and you can keep the money. She'd be more than enough."

I felt myself gag.

"You're treading on very _thin _ice right now," the Joker warned, his tone deadly quiet. "Do _not _take my hospitality of keeping you alive for granted."

At the sound of the clown's lethal voice, the landlord seemed to shrink back, his beady eyes now wide in fear. He seemed to have forgotten whom exactly he was doing business with, but now that he remembered, I felt a lot more comfortable. It was somewhat ironic, the fact that I felt more comfortable around the Joker than I did around his henchmen. He always seemed to be there, sticking up for me in his own twisted way. However, he had also threatened me numerous times, held a knife to my face and my throat, a gun to my head, and yet, I felt still _safer_ with _him_. It was maddening. Afraid of the truth, I really didn't want to try to understand.

"Like I said before, I need another room," the Joker explained, drumming his fingers on his chin in mock thought as he eyed the keys on the wall. Several were already missing. "Give me the key to, hmm, number eight."

The landlord nodded obediently, his chubby face trembling as he turned to retrieve the key. He grabbed it and than handed it to me. He gave a quick, toothy grin and began making his way towards the staircase on our left.

"Wait!" I called out. "Where are you going?"

He stopped and turned to me.

"I have certain things that I need to take care of," he replied. "The others won't touch you after my little _example_ last night, so uh, _don-'t _bother me."

With that, he bounded up the stairs towards the second floor and the sound of his footsteps soon retreated completely. I stood there confused and unsure of what to do, clutching the silver key tightly in my hand. Not long after the clown disappeared, the landlord quickly retreated into the back room, leaving me alone in the lobby. The henchmen soon entered, however, carrying the equipment and bags from the van.

"Where's the boss?" one of them asked.

I shrugged. "He ran upstairs."

They all nodded, seeming to know what that meant.

"Do you know what he's doing?" I asked curiously.

"He's working, so don't bother him," one lackey replied. He was tall and lean and looked as if he hadn't eaten in days. "Last time someone bothered him up there, he got a bullet in between the eyes. I don't think the blood has come out of the carpet yet."

They all laughed nervously at that and I let my eyes wander to the staircase, wondering what the Clown Prince of Crime was planning for the unsuspecting Gotham.

When the henchmen began making their way upstairs, I noticed that one had stayed behind and was now approaching me. He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with dark hair and chocolate eyes. He had a scar stretching from his right temple to the middle of his right cheek, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the Joker's handiwork. When he spoke, I immediately recognized his voice as belonging to the man who had stuck up for me — the one who had told Chuckles that I was a member of the team, not a hostage.

"He's probably keeping an eye on the news," he said quietly. "The name's Dean, or Doc as Joker will say."

"He's keeping an eye on the news because of what he left for Gordon?"

Doc nodded. "The tape, it has his ultimatum on it. Either Batman shows himself on top of the police station roof by six o'clock tonight or the southern section of Gotham gets blown to bits."

"There wasn't enough explosives in the van to wipe out that much of the city," I argued, finding his words hard to believe.

Doc shrugged. "Well, we've been planting the bombs all week, and as for the Joker, I think he just wants to get a rise out of Batman. You know, put him in a difficult situation. There's been heists and explosions since the boss has escaped, but not like this one. If Batman shows himself and evades his arrest, then he's the criminal once again. If he doesn't show, then the city is in ruins. Either way, the Joker wins the battle."

I nodded, knowing full well that the police were after Batman. He was wanted for the murders that occurred after the Joker had been captured, though I was one of the few people who knew that Harvey Dent was actually the one responsible. The rest of Gotham, however, saw him as a crazed and violent psychopath who deserved a cell in Arkham with the very people he had fought to put there.

"That night in the alley, the night Edinger's son was killed, I saw the Bat signal in the sky," I explained, suddenly realizing the significance. "Did he not show then?"

"Nope."

"You don't think he'll show up tonight?"

"I honestly don't know, but the city better hope he does."

***

After my conversation with Doc, I retreated upstairs to my room. It was anything but nice, but I hadn't expected much. A dingy bathroom, a single queen sized bed that looked as if the sheets had never been washed, and a television set that was probably black and white. It wasn't the best, but it was mine, and I was thankful to be on the opposite side of the hotel from the henchmen.

I laid myself down on the hard mattress and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, the Joker was clapping in my face, his gloved hands inches away from my nose.

"W-What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

I could have sworn that I had locked the door.

"Ah, babydoll, it's _wonderful_," he said, happily, grabbing the television remote from the side table and turning on the news. A very distraught anchorman came into focus, his eyes fearful and saddened as he stared into the camera.

"I apologize for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen," he explained, "but we have just gotten word about the Joker's latest movements. I must warn you that the video you're about to see is incredibly disturbing. Children should leave the room."

The channel fuzzed a little as it changed to the pre-recorded video, and the image of a man tied down to an old wooden chair soon came into focus, though the footage was still rather fuzzy. The man had to be in his late forties, dressed in an expensive three-piece suit that was now tattered and smeared with blood. The camera zoomed in on his face; his cheeks were stained with dirt and tears, his fearful eyes gazing up past the camera.

"Soooo," the Joker drawled out on camera. "What's your name?"

The man coughed a little and stifled his tears.

"Shh shh shh. It's okay. Just tell them your name."

"Michael." It was nothing more than a sob.

"Michael what?"

"Michael Jacobs."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped in surprise. I hardly recognized him through the grainy footage, but Michael Jacobs had recently been elected as the new District Attorney for Gotham.

"Ah, right, Mr. _Jacobs._" He paused to laugh. "New and improved District Attorney. Tell me, what was that _promise_ you made in your campaign? Something about arresting Batman and putting him on trial? Making him pay for his _crimes_?"

Jacobs nodded. "H-He's a vigilante and a c-criminal. H-He's no b-better than y-you."

"Is that so? So you don't think Gotham _needs _its Dark Knight?" The Joker's voice was high-pitched with excitement, his tone cracking in subdued laughter as he spoke. He strode towards Jacobs, causing the camera to shake.

"Answer me," he ordered. When no answer came, the Joker's gloved hand gripped the D.A.'s chin and his tone became more forceful. "_Answer_ me!"

"N-No," Jacobson squeaked. "Gotham doesn't n-need him."

The Joker broke out into hysterics then.

"Oh, but you do, Jacobs, you _really _do."

The camera shook violently and soon rested on the Joker's beaming face. His smile stretched out his scars and cracked his red lips.

"My _dear_ Gotham," he greeted with a smile, "I've spent the last few weeks trying to flush the Batman out of his little cave, but, unfortunately, he's kept himself well hidden. Many of you probably think that you _don't _need him, but I gaurun-_tee_ you that _that_ will change. I'm giving the Batman until six o'clock tonight to show himself to the city on top of the police station, and if he fails to say hello, then say goodbye to the southern half of Gotham." He chuckled, bringing the camera close to his face. "Like I've said before, _I'm a man of my word_."

The sound of Jacobs' screams overpowered the Joker's hysterical laughter and I looked away, unwilling to see the torture he was putting the man through. The television was soon shut off, however, and I looked up at the proud clown in front of me.

"I swear," he chuckled, throwing the remote onto the bed beside me, "this city goes through district attorneys faster than I go through bullets. Heh, It's rather _amusing_."

***

I shivered against the cold and wrapped my arms around my barely-clad shoulders. We were all standing on the hotel roof, the henchmen and I behind the Joker as he looked out over the dimly lit city before him. He had on his famous red grin and his eyes seemed darker, more sinister.

"_Poor _Batsy wants so desperately to keep his hands clean," the Joker said lightly, his thumb tracing along the button of the remote he held in his hands.

The Batman had arrived on top of the police station at five o'clock. Camera crews and news reporters were ready to capture the history as he shook Gordon's hand. It was a silent deal, but its significance was clear to everyone: the Dark Knight had returned.

It was now ten past six, and the people of Gotham thought they were safe.

But they were wrong. Horribly wrong.

"I'm a man of my word," the Joker called back to us, the setting sun silhouetting his tall figure. He seemed so regal, his stature so impressive. "South Gotham is safe. North Gotham, not so much."

His laughter seemed to echo down the deserted streets, and as I watched the northern horizon explode in a haze of fire and smoke, I realized that Doc was right: Batman couldn't win.

***

http:// no-more-doubt .deviantart. com/art/Freedom -Joker- Maroni-134748768

^ That is a link to my recent fan art update. The link should be without spaces. It's nothing special, but if you want to look at it, feel free to do so. :]


	9. Uncertainty

Okay, here's a completed chapter nine! Sorry it took so long - life has been crazy! Hope you enjoy!

The next couple of nights, I couldn't sleep. The images I had seen on recent news broadcasts were replaying over and over in my head, and my stomach was an empty pit in my core. Hugging my pillow tightly, I curled deeper into the ratty sheets of the hotel bed, shutting my eyes tightly and listening to the rain patter against the window. Hundreds were dead, hundreds that _didn't_ include Edinger, most of who were probably innocent people. The thought of me having contributed to their pain wasn't sitting well with my conscience, and although I usually knew better than to express my uncertainty, I had never been good at hiding my emotions.

Slowly, I brought a hand to the fresh bruise on my cheek, a cruel reminder that I would never be able to turn back.

I had been lying in my bed and watching the news when one of the lackeys barged in, informing me that the "boss" wished to see me in his office, which was nothing more than his own dirty hotel room.

"Well, did he say what he wants?" I asked impatiently, irritated by the man's lack of manners.

The burly man snorted. "You think I'd be in front of you right now if I went around asking the boss questions like that? Just get your ass in there."

Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself up and caught the door before it closed. The Joker's room was a few doors down from mine, something that unnerved me in the beginning, but I was used to it now. He was pretty much keeping to himself. It had been four days since the explosions rocked northern Gotham, and much to my surprise, we hadn't left the hotel. Instead, the Joker stayed in his room, doing who knows what, but part of me wondered if he was simply waiting. People in Gotham were frantic over what was going to happen next. Hundreds were fleeing the city. News reports showed people screaming and crying, others fighting with police during riots and protests over Batman's return. It was complete anarchy.

The Joker was probably laughing.

I quickly walked down the hall towards his room, the rough carpet scraping against the bottoms of my feet. When I reached the flimsy wooden door, I knocked carefully and nearly fell backwards when it immediately swung open. With wide eyes, I stared at the clown, whose make-up was smeared messily over his features.

He smiled. "Scare you, baby doll?"

I quickly regained my composure. "No," I said sternly. "I heard you needed to see me?"

The Joker's red-painted smile only grew as he opened the door a little wider. With only quiet snickering, he turned his back to me and motioned with his hand. Hesitantly, I followed his lead into the dimly lit room and closed the door. The soft glow of the television, along with the street lamps outside, were the only sources of light. The floor was littered with papers and the stench of rotting food made me want to throw up what little I had in my stomach. Squinting my eyes through the semi-darkness, I watched as the Joker picked up a piece a paper from one of the cluttered countertops.

"I do believe it's time I make my grand en_trance_," he said joyfully, grinning down at the paper in his hands. He held it out to me, shaking it enthusiastically, encouraging me to take it, and I did so warily.

Even in the dim light, the bold letters on the flyer were hard to miss:

GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

ANNUAL HOLIDAY FORMAL

FRIDAY, DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH, SEVEN P.M.

CITY HALL

"So," the Joker drawled, "what do you think?"

I look up from the paper in confusion. Did he really care what I thought? I handed the flier back to him and shook my head.

"I don't get it. Wasn't blowing up part of the city your _grand _entrance?"

The Joker laughed hysterically, the paper crinkling in his ungloved hands. "No, no, no, no, no, _no_, dollface," he chided. "That was more of uh, how do you say, opening act? The _real _fun begins this Friday."

I did my best to understand where he was going with this. "So, you're going to bomb City Hall?"

The Joker let out an exaggerated sigh. "_No_. How uncreative do you think I _am_? No, no, _we're_ going to _crash _the party."

"_We_?"

He turned towards me, a look of irritation flashing in his eyes, and I made a mental note to not ask so many questions next time. He walked towards me.

"Yes, _we_," he growled, placing his hand on my shoulder and gripping it painfully. "You see, doll face, I'm planning on being fashionably late. I'll need some people on the inside to watch the security and make _sure_ no one is suspecting _any_thing. You're going to be Rickman's _date_."

Without warning, he roughly turned me to face him and gripped my other shoulder as well. "Do you have a _problem_ with that?"

I narrowed my eyes. My uncertainty about playing a part in the Joker's schemes was coursing through my veins, as was my motive for even being with him in the first place. I wanted Edinger, that was all, and I wasn't sure going through the Joker to get to him was the best way.

"Yes."

The word came out before I could even stop myself, and I could tell that it surprised Joker as well because his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh?" he asked, as a cruel smile played across his mutilated mouth. "And what _problem_ would that be?"

I silently cursed myself for being so damn impulsive.

"I came here for Edinger," I said stiffly, hoping he couldn't detect my fear. "All I want is to get revenge for what he did to my mother. I don't want to be a part of all this random chaos."

He didn't reply right away, only stared at me, his dark and painted eyes burning into mine. He let go of my shoulders, turning so that his back was facing me. I heard him sigh deeply, and a very naïve part of me thought he understood what I had said. His fist sent me crashing back to reality and into the wall. Pain seared through my face, but before I could even bring a hand up to protect myself, the Joker had a firm grip around my face.

"Let me _tell_ you one thing," he seethed. "When I ask if you have a problem, it really is rhe-tor-i-cal. You see, I don't _care _if you do or if you don-_'t._ Once you're with me, you stay with me or you die. It's that simple."

He let go of my neck then and I slid to the ground, gasping. I could feel the left side of my face swelling and my vision was blurry. Slowly, I brought myself to my feet, my anger and adrenaline making my legs shake. I was not only angry with him, but also myself for having been honest. I always valued honesty, but with the Joker, it seemed my values were always flipped.

I glared at him from my spot against the wall.

"You'll get Edinger," he said, nonchalantly. "I'm a m-"

"Man of your word? Yeah, I've heard it before," I growled, expecting another blow to the face, but the Joker only laughed.

"Ah, now _that's_ what I like to hear! You're much more attractive when you're feisty!"

I rolled my eyes. "Can I go now?"

The scars exaggerated his smile. "I suppose, but don't forget December eighteenth! And doll face, I'd put an ice pack on that cheek. No one likes a bruised dame."

I made sure to slam the door on my way out.


	10. A Plan of My Own

Enjoy! R&R, please! :]

* * *

The morning after my encounter with the Joker, a gentle knocking on my hotel door woke me from a dreamless sleep.

"Hold on, I'll be right there," I called out groggily. I had made it a habit to lock my door, even if the Joker had a master key. It gave me a sense of comfort and control. Quickly, I put on a pair of sweatpants and unlocked the door.

"Hey, Danni," Joshua greeted with a small smile, one that quickly disappeared when he noticed the purple bruise on my face. "What happened?"

"Long story," I said, opening the door a little wider and motioning for him to come in. In one hand, Joshua held a small pink bakery box, and in the other, about two long, white plastic bags – the kind used to bag dresses. "And to what do I owe this visit?"

Joshua held out the pink box; the smell of baked goods filled my nostrils as I took it and sat on the edge of my bed. One doughnut sat in the middle of what looked to have been a dozen.

"Figured you guys would want something to eat and they were leftovers from the station. The boys already go to most of them, if you couldn't tell."

I smiled my thanks. "So, is that the reason you're here? Or does it have something to do with what's in those bags."

Joshua gently laid the bags on the end of the bed. "It does. I'm sure you're aware of this Friday and the Joker's plans. He told me to go out and get you something to wear, so I did my best based off of the sizes of the dresses from your apartment closet."

I looked warily at the white bags. "Well, I'll try them on and let you know."

"Did the boss hit you?" Joshua's eyes were full of concern.

"Yeah, he did. I think I'm a little too outspoken for him."

"You have to be careful, Danni. He doesn't _need _you. If you get on his bad side, he'll kill you. It's that simple."

"Don't you think I know that?" I said, my eyes narrowing in irritation. "I'm not an idiot, but if he wanted to kill me, he already would have. I have things under control."

I don't know where those words came from, because I certainly didn't feel as if I were in control. In fact, it was the exact opposite. The Joker was more controlling and abusive than my father ever was, but for some reason, it was tolerable. In the back of my mind, I knew this would change after I got my revenge on Edinger; I would have no reason to tolerate the Joker and I knew that it would cause me more trouble than I could handle.

After Joshua left, I stood facing the end of my bed, starting at the white bags of dresses. I gently unwrapped the first one, which ended up being too small, but the second one left me pleasantly surprised. It was a dark red floor length dress, strapless with an empire waste. I carefully slipped into it and zipped the back, which rested right under my shoulder blades. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror and admired the look. I had to give Joshua credit – it was a gorgeous dress and it fit perfectly. The empire waist was studded with small jewels and it was definitely flattering to my figure.

A small smile took over my lips. This police ball could be fun if I let it – perhaps I would even be able to get a shot at Edinger, a thought that made my heart race with anticipation. I spent a few more minutes in front of the mirror before I realized that I didn't have any shoes to go with the dress. After changing into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve white shirt, I left my room and headed for the hotel lobby, hoping that Joshua hadn't left yet.

I was watching my feet as I quickly made my way down the narrow stairs, and by the time I saw the purple hem of the Joker's pants, I had already slammed into him. I yelped in surprise and would have fallen over had he not grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Now, isn't _this_ a pleasant sur_prise_," he said. "The princess is out of her palace. What's the hurry?"

I looked up at his perfectly painted face, fully aware of the heat of his bare hands against my bare shoulders and my accelerated heart rate. My eyes were glued to his; there was something about him that was oddly captivating. It was then I noticed that his eyes were a chocolate brown.

"I was looking for Joshua," I replied, shrugging off his hands and my confusing feelings.

"Rickman already left. Does the dress not _fit_?"

"No, it does, but I don't have shoes to go with it."

The Joker rolled his eyes, shoved me out of his way, and without another word, disappeared up the stairs.

"You piss off the boss?"

I stared down at Chuckles from my spot on the stairs. "No, I don't think so."

A few other henchmen soon entered into the lobby.

"Okay, good. He's in a pretty good mood today, so don't fuck that up."

"Do you guys know what's happening on Friday?" I asked, ignoring Chuckles' comment. "I don't know the specifics."

"The dirty cops are gonna be on the inside with you and we're joining the boss," Sleepy said. "Some of us are taking care of security and some are in charge of a smooth getaway."

I rolled my eyes. "That's really specific," I scoffed.

"Yeah, well, the boss ain't too keen on specifics," Dopey chimed with his deep voice. He towered over the other men by at least a foot. "Any plans he has, he keeps to himself. We know what to do and where to be. Talk to him if you want to know more."

With that, the henchmen left the lobby for their own dingy rooms, leaving me wondering if I should try to find out more from the Joker. Friday was only two days away and I hated not knowing what was going to happen. After a few moments of deliberating and wondering if my face could afford another bruise, I decided to go for it. The truth is, I was nervous, and although I refused to admit it to myself, I had a strange desire to be in the Joker's presence.

* * *

I stood in front of his door for a minute before knocking and the muffled sound of him grumbling made me cringe. The door opened quickly, so quickly that I jumped in surprise and the small plastic barrel of a blue water gun was soon pressed into my forehead.

"W-What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled.

"Did I scare you?" The Joker had a playful gleam in his eye.

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

His smile faded a little and he withdrew the toy, looking down at it like a disappointed child before shrugging and throwing it off to the side. He left the door open and took a seat on one of the old, antique chairs across the room, which was dark with the curtains drawn.

"How may I be of service to you, baby doll? I'm afraid I don't _carry_ your _shoe_ size."

I stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. He seemed so regal as he leaned back against the old blue fabric of the chair, his custom-made purple suit fitting perfectly. His smile was frighteningly handsome.

"I wanted to know more about what was happening on Friday. Is there anything I need to prepare for?"

The Joker laughed and stood up from his chair. "No. You just make yourself look _pretty_."

"Seriously? I –"

"Seriously."

"But I –"

"Nope."

"You've got to be fucking joking!" I yelled in irritation. "You just want me to stand there? What the hell is the point of that?"

"You know, doll face, my father always said that women should be seen, not heard."

I couldn't tell whether he was irritated or not; his voice was strangely neutral, but at that point, I really didn't care.

"Whatever, look, Edinger is probably going to be there, and I want my shot at him."

The Joker's eyes immediately grew darker.

"You will get your sho-_t_," he growled. "Now get the _hell_ out of my room."

* * *

It was around three o'clock on Friday, the eighteenth. I hadn't seen the Joker since our talk that Wednesday, and that was fine by me.

"He likes being in control," Joshua said as he handed me the shopping bag that contained my new shoes. If you start trying to interject your own ideas into his creation, you're going to be facing an angry clown."

"Well, I'm not here for his ideas or plans. I'm here for one thing, and I don't want him to forget it."

Joshua sighed. "Whatever you say. The shoes should fit. Someone's going to drop you off at your apartment tonight at seven-thirty, and from there, you and I will head over."

After saying my goodbyes, I decided to lounge around until it was time to get ready. I had a knot in my stomach the size of a baseball; I had never been so nervous for anything before and the news was anything but distracting. Images of a burned and destroyed city filled the screen. Unsurprisingly, the Joker was the hot topic, and of course, so was Batman. The two had yet to come face to face, but I assumed that this would change tonight. Now that the Batman had returned, he was probably waiting for the Joker to strike again.

As soon as six rolled around, I decided to get ready. If the Joker wanted me to "make myself look pretty", that's what I was going to do. The hotel came equipped with a hairdryer, but the cord was frayed and dangerous, so I chose to let my hair air dry, which gave it natural curl. I went heavy on the eye shadow, going for a smoky, seductive look. A light shade of red lipstick, my sexy red dress, and my silver strap heels finished the outfit. I admired myself in the mirror, proud of my work. I had no clue what was in store for tonight, but at least I would look good.

By the time I finished, it was already seven, so I quickly made my way downstairs where four of the six henchmen were waiting. I couldn't help but notice their eyes widen a little as I walked towards them. All of them were wearing suits, clown masks in their hands.

"Uh, you ready to go?" Sleepy asked, his eyes glued to my cleavage.

"She's ready, Sleeps," Dopey responded, elbowing him in the ribs. "Have a bit more class, will ya?"

"How much class can have henchmen have?" I teased as we made our way outside towards the white van. I had no clue why I was in such a good mood; perhaps it was the beauty of the sunset or the feeling of having a new dress and a new pair of high heels.

Or perhaps it was the stolen handgun that was now strapped to my upper thigh and the fact that despite the Joker having his plans, I had already devised one of my own.

Edinger would die tonight whether the Joker wanted him to or not.


	11. Unexpected

R&R, please! It's much appreciated!

* * *

The top floor of city hall was a large open banquet hall, decorated with strings of golden lights and expensive crystal. An open bar sat off to the right, where a decent amount of guests were ordering champagne and martinis. Elegantly decorated tables were off to the left, leaving the middle portion of the hall open as a dance floor. Upbeat music drifted from the live band that was set up in the back corner.

I draped my arm gently over Joshua's as he lead me through the mass of people. All of the men were dressed in black suits, Joshua included, while all of the women sported fancy dresses and expensive jewelry. Although I was dressed appropriately for the occasion, I couldn't help but feel out of place. I had downgraded my lifestyle from my family's expensive nature for such a long time that I was completely disconnected from it. Such luxury as this felt strange.

As Joshua and I walked through the middle of the hall towards the bar, Commissioner Gordon spotted us and began walking our way. I squeezed Joshua's arm a little, unaware of how nervous I was.

"Danni!" he greeted pleasantly, shaking my hand. "I'm glad to see you're doing well. I have to admit, I was worried when Joshua here told me you were leaving Gotham, but I see you guys have kept in touch."

The tone in his voice was suggestive, and the thought of Joshua and I together made me blush. The thought had never crossed my mind. I opened my mouth to speak, but Joshua's voice stopped me.

"We've become good friends," he replied.

Gordon smiled, and for a few moments, they talked about typical office issues. As they spoke, I glanced around at the crowd of people. Police officers and guests blended together, and I wondered how many of them knew about the Joker's plans to crash the party. Across the hall, I could see Bruce Wayne, talking to three or four young, attractive women - a typical occurrence. A rich, handsome bachelor usually received more attention than other men. His dark eyes suddenly caught mine in an unnerving gaze, and I immediately turned around. There was something strange about him and the way he looked at me - as if he were suspicious.

After Joshua and Gordon were done talking, we made our way over to the bar, where Joshua ordered us both a glass of champagne. I sipped mine and leaned against the bar.

"You don't need to be nervous," Joshua whispered. "Everything is under control."

I nodded. "Does he even have a goal for tonight?"

Joshua shrugged. "Cause chaos for sure, but I know he wants to face Batman again. He'll cause trouble until Batman shows up."

While we drank our champagne, numerous people came up to Joshua. He seemed like a well-liked person, though I doubt these people knew his secret life as clown-sidekick. I forced a smile on my face when I was introduced, ignoring the nauseating feeling that was threatening to take over. By the time I was on my third champagne, it was nine-o'clock and there had been no sign of the Joker. I was already beginning to feel the alcohol, and the more I felt it, the less nervous I became. I started to feel light-hearted, that is, until I saw _him_.

Joshua and I were slow dancing when I saw him across the room. He was wearing a black suit and was slightly overweight with black hair and blue eyes - the way I remembered him from his photo: David Edinger. The bastard was so close. Joshua must have felt me tense up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes scanning the sea of people around us.

"He's right over there," I whispered.

"Who?"

"Edinger."

Joshua did a quick glance behind him. "Don't do anything, Danni."

"And why not?" I seethed. "He's all I'm here for. I can kill him now and be done with it."

"You kill him now and there's no way you'll have a life. You'll either get killed by Joker or arrested for murder. Do _not _let him take your life too."

I stared up at Joshua in shock, who only stared back with stern eyes. I hadn't expected him to say what he had. His words hit hard, and I realized he was right. I couldn't kill Edinger just whenever; I needed a plan. A very safe, strategic plan. I was beginning to regret bringing the gun that was strapped to my leg. Once the song that the band was playing faded away, Joshua and I began walking towards our table. Gordon had taken his place on the platform in front of the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "thank you so much for joining the Gotham City Police Department tonight. This past month has been difficult. With the destruction and darkness that has plagued our city, it may seem that all hope is lost, but I'm here to tell you otherwise. As a brave man once said, 'the night is darkest just before -"

Gordon's voice was cut off by the sound of a man's very distinctive, unique laughter. Immediately, people began standing from their chairs, their voices full of worry and concern. Some began scrambling for the stairs and elevator.

"My apologies, Com_missioner_," the Joker's voice boomed from the speakers. "I believe I was meant to speak before you."

From my spot at the table, I looked frantically through the large mass of frantic people as they hurried for the exits. The three elevators soon reached the top floor and when the doors slid open, the sound of women screaming and men cursing pierced the air. The Joker stood in the middle elevator, microphone in hand, dressed in his very best purple suit and face paint. The other two elevators held his gun-wielding henchmen; the stairs were blocked off as well.

"I must say, I'm a little hurt," he pouted as he and the henchmen stepped from the elevator. "I didn't get _my_ invitation, and from the looks of your pathetic security, it looks like you weren't even ex_pecting_ me!"

The henchmen spread out among the crowd, ordering police officers to drop any weapons they had and taking any expensive jewelry they could steal. The crowd wad deadly quiet now, their eyes locked on the menacing clown that was now inspecting a few guests.

"I'm looking for _Bat_man!" he bellowed after a moment of intense silence. I was now standing in the middle of the crowd, wanting to get a better look at what was going on. "I would _like_ to talk with him! Have you seen him?" The Joker pointed his knife at a crying woman, who was only shaking her head.

"Aw, _shh_," the Joker cooed, petting the woman's face. "You have nothing to worry about, that is, unless Batman _doesn't _show up. In that case," he grabbed the now sobbing woman by the back of the head and pushed his knife into her cheek, "I'll cut your face until he _does_."

"Get your hands off of her!" the man next to me screamed.

_That_ caught the Joker's attention. Slowly, he swaggered his way over to us. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as the clown made his way through. He reached the man and looked him up and down.

"You know, I really_ hate_ to be interrupted. It's really quite _rude_, don't you -"

The Joker's dark eyes were soon on me. I was standing on his right side in the front of the crowd and his eyes seemed to brighten as they grew wider, allowing more light to fall on them. I was still feeling slightly drunk and my heart nearly stopped in my chest when he stopped speaking. He turned towards me, his mutilated smile growing.

"Well, hello _there_," his voice was smooth.

I only looked at him. Something in the back of my mind was telling me to play victim. He was soon standing in front of me, so close that my breasts were pressed against his purple jacket. His intoxicating smell was making me more lightheaded than I already was.

"Long time, no see."

He was lying, obviously. It was all an act, but the way his eyes were burning into me wasn't. It seemed as if everyone else in the room had disappeared. My mind was snapped back into reality when I felt the blade of his knife grazing the soft skin of my neck. His lips were pressed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I wonder if your blood is as red as your dress," he whispered.

He leaned back to look at me and it was then that the unthinkable happened.

It took me awhile to recognize the feeling of his lips against mine, and the sound of guests' disgusting gasps slowly faded in my ears.

We were alone in my mind.

* * *

His lips were surprisingly soft, and despite myself, I let my eyes close. He bit my top lip slightly, sending a rush of pleasure and adrenaline throughout my whole body, and I responded by doing the same to his bottom one.

He pulled back then with a look of surprise and laughed before turning and facing the rest of the crowd. The room was again full of expensively dressed individuals, but my eyes were still on him. Some people were looking at me with pity, some with surprise, and others with disgust; I couldn't blame the latter.

Had that just happened? I tried forcing myself to feel shame about returning his kiss, but it was impossible.

God forgive me, but I had enjoyed it.


	12. Pathetic

_His lips were surprisingly soft, and despite myself, I let my eyes close. He bit my top lip slightly, sending a rush of pleasure and adrenaline throughout my whole body, and I responded by doing the same to his bottom one._

_He pulled back then with a look of surprise and laughed before turning and facing the rest of the crowd. The room was again full of expensively dressed individuals, but my eyes were still on him. Some people were looking at me with pity, some with surprise, and others with disgust; I couldn't blame the latter._

_Had that just happened? I tried forcing myself to feel shame about returning his kiss, but it was impossible._

_God forgive me, but I had enjoyed it._

_

* * *

_

I stood dumbfounded as I watched the Joker wreak havoc on the innocent guests. I was not only shocked by the Joker kissing me, but also by how wonderful it had felt. I couldn't distinguish the look in his eyes after our lips parted. He was either surprised by his own actions or surprised by mine. I began to wonder if his part had been an act, a way to disgust everyone in the room; that was probably the reason he looked so shocked. It was probably the reason he laughed; it was nothing more than a fucking_ joke_. The idea angered and embarrassed me, and I felt my hands curl into tight fists. The odd looks I was getting from the people around me suddenly shifted back to the Joker, who had just shot a bullet into the ceiling, pieces of which cracked off and fell to the floor.

"Now, _now_, people," he said with a hint of irritation. "Now, I love a good show just like everybody else, but I'm afraid I'm starting to get, uh, _bored_. Perhaps Batman is amongst this _fine_ crowd of, elites, _hm_? I have an idea! For every minute Batty Bats doesn't show, I'll _kill_ one of you."

He began moving through the groups of people, looking each one up and down, as if looking through prized cattle at an auction. I had to force myself to exhale, unaware I was holding my breath. I watched the Joker's every move, not out of fear, but out of curiosity. Even the way he _moved_ was intriguing. He had a definite swagger, one that would usually be defined by arrogance, but on him, it was different. It was actually _attractive_. I immediately shook my head free of my disturbing thoughts, and just in time.

"Minute one? _O_VER!" the Joker cackled, lifting and aiming his gun at a man in front of him. The man went down instantly, a bullet in between his eyes. Screams filled the room, but no one moved. They couldn't. The police were unarmed and fear kept them frozen. "And, we have forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven," the Joker counted, his eyes glued to his wrist watch. He had the barrel of his gun pointed in between the eyes of a middle-aged woman.

The sound of someone sobbing drew my eyes to the left; the woman looked at me with her red-rimmed eyes, silently asking for comfort, but I did nothing. I _felt _nothing. No compassion, no sympathy. I had no urge to comfort her. I looked around the room at the hundreds of party guests; there were hundreds of them and only a dozen henchmen, including the Joker. Why didn't _anyone_ stand up for themselves? Why didn't they fight? The problem was that people relied too much on Batman to save them. He was their hero only when they needed him. As if he could read my mind, the caped crusader arrived. The black blur rushed forward towards the Joker.

"Drop the gun, Joker," he said with his thick, raspy voice.

The Joker's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and he lowered his gun. "Oh, look who decided to finally show up!" he squealed. "Unfortunately, the second minute ended, oh, about four seconds ago, and well, I'm a, uh, _stickler_ for punctuality. "

He raised his gun and pulled the trigger, but not before being rushed by Batman. The bullet ricocheted off the wall and struck a nearby window, shattering it completely. All of the lackeys raced forward, ready to help with the fight that was now ensuing. Batman had knocked the Joker flat on his back, but he was on his feet again with amazing, throwing his gun to the side. One of the henchmen, though I couldn't tell which one because of the clown mask, slammed a crowbar into Batman's lower back, breaking his concentration. The Joker took the opportunity - bringing the tip of his foot swiftly into the vigilante's abdomen.

None of it really seemed to injure Batman, who simply grabbed the Joker by the lapel of his purple suit jacket and slammed a hardened fist across his face. The clown laughed hysterically as his head whipped to one side, his left hand now sporting a switchblade. The henchmen continued to keep order amongst the crowd, making sure they couldn't reach the exits. The one with the crowbar continued to take swings at Batman, but he was eventually knocked out by a kick to the head. With all of his attention now on the Joker, Batman had him by the throat with crushing force. My heart was racing throughout this whole ordeal, and not because I was nervous, but because I was _worried_. I hated to admit it to myself, but I was actually _worried_ for Joker, so I really shouldn't have been surprised by what happened.

"STOP!"

My voice sounded a lot more confident than I actually felt. The gun that was once strapped to my thigh was now in my hand and pointed in the direction of Batman. Despite the shadows that his black mask cast over his eyes, I could see them widen slightly. The Joker, who was slowly beginning to pass out, only gave a breathless chuckle.

"Put him down," I said sternly.

Batman didn't move.

"I SAID PUT HIM DOWN." I pointed my gun at the crying woman to my left. "PUT HIM DOWN OR I'LL BLOW HER FUCKING HEAD OFF."

"You, ha, heard the woman," the Joker gasped.

Batman dropped the clown immediately, who simply slumped to the floor in a gasping, laughing lump. I kept my gun pointed at the woman and waited for the Joker to stand up. He was breathing heavily, but his laughter was stronger now. He continued to laugh as he backed up away from Batman, whose darkened eyes never left mine, and made his way towards me. I couldn't tell if he was pleased or angry with what I had done; probably the latter, but I had so much adrenaline running through my veins that I couldn't think straight. Snatching the gun from my hand, the Joker grabbed my wrist and yanked me close to him.

"Well, this sure has been fun," he said, turning and pointing the gun at Batman. "Really, a, uh, _wonderful_ reunion, Bats, but I'm afraid that if I don't leave now, my, uh, _carriage_ will turn into a _pump_kin."

The ding of the elevators was our cue. He held on to my wrist, dragging me along as we approached the middle elevator. He kept the gun pointed at random people, making sure Batman wouldn't move from his spot. Once the elevator doors closed, I exhaled deeply, my body shaking slightly from all of the excitement. Before I could even truly catch my breath, however, my back was pressed against the wall by the Joker's warm body. It was then I realized that we were alone.

"Now, uh, why did you do that, doll face?" he said, his hand brushing away a strand of lose hair from my face.

His voice was stern and menacing, but his touch was gentle and his body warm. I looked at him in confusion. Before I could reply, the doors to the elevator opened, and his hand was soon gripping my wrist again. A few police officers were standing in the lobby, waiting for us, but the Joker and the other henchmen shot them down within seconds. The winter air burned my cheeks as we pushed our way through the front entrance. A single dark-colored sedan sat in an alley across the street and the sounds of distant sirens made everyone move a bit quicker.

"Chuckles, cram everyone in the car and drive to the south hideout," Joker commanded, throwing the keys at his lackey.

"But, uh, boss, what about you?"

"Don't fucking ask me questions!" Joker bellowed. "JUST GO! And you," he glanced in my direction, "you're coming with me."

I nodded and kept quiet by his side. We were pressed against the wall, our bodies covered in shadow as we watched the henchmen squeeze into the car. Once they were all in, they sped off into the night, southbound. The Joker and I continued to stand in silence; his eyes were focused on the front doors of city hall, which had already been bursting with people and police officers.

"Did anyone see which way they went?" one officer called out.

"People said that they saw a single car head south, about six people crammed inside," another one replied.

Commissioner Gordon soon emerged from the lobby, an angry, grave look. "I want all men in pursuit of that car!" he ordered. "And take extreme precaution; all of them are armed!"

"Should we wait for Batman?"

"No, he's already two steps ahead of us. We'll get the fucking clown bastard."

"And what about Danielle Maroni?"

Gordon shook his head, almost in disappointment. "Arrest her and bring her in for questioning."

"Come on," the Joker whispered harshly, pulling me down the alley. We stayed as close to the wall as we could. The alley eventually poured off into the next street, which was lined with closed shops and boutiques. The street lights broke our cover for only a few seconds and I winced in pain as the Joker's grip grew even tighter around my wrist.

"You know, I can follow you on my own. You don't need to drag me," I said harshly. He ignored what I said, pulling me with him through the shadows. We had sprinted down the street for two blocks, stopping at the brink of a residential area before turning into a new alley. The building to our right was a solid, two-story brick town home. It looked like Victorian, but I couldn't be sure. The windows above us were dark, signaling that either no one was home or that everyone was asleep. We quickly approached a door that was partially hidden by trash cans.

The Joker knocked lightly and it immediately, revealing a clown-masked lackey in a suit, who immediately moved out of the way so that we could enter. Needless to say, I was slightly confused.

"What is this place?" I asked, looking around in the dim light. Given the concrete floors and white walls, it must have been the basement of the house. The unmistakeable smell of Pine-Sol immediately filled my nose, drawing my eyes to a nearby shelf that was full of cleaning products. A narrow stairway was wedged into one corner, leading up to the first story of the house. A washer and dryer sat in the other corner, along with a hamper full of dirty clothes. Next to these was an open, narrow door, and through the darkness, I could see the outline of a white toilet. I continued to look around, finally noticing the inflatable bed that sat in the middle of the room with a stack of pillows and blankets neatly folded on top.

No one replied to my question. Instead, the Joker released my wrist and focused his attention on the henchman.

"South hideout," was all he said. The lackey nodded and was out the door in seconds, leaving the Joker and I alone.

"I'm a little confused," I said after a few moments of silence. "Why are we here?"

The Joker removed his purple overcoat and threw it onto the air mattress, chuckling slightly. "It's a _hideout_," he replied. He cracked his back, a sound so loud it seemed to echo throughout the room. It was then I noticed the blood smeared over his face, mixing with his white face paint. I placed my hands on my hips; I still didn't understand. We were dangerously close to city hall and the police station.

"We're basically hiding in the lion's den."

"That's the, uh, _point_, doll face. All those_ brave_ police officers will be looking in the _nasty_ Narrows for me and they'll never suspect that I'm actually under the uh, _abode_, of one of their own."

My eyes trailed towards the ceiling. "Who's place is this?"

The Joker let his tongue graze his red-painted lips. "Doesn't matter." He slowly made his way towards me, and I instinctively backed away. My back was soon pressed against the wall cold wall. "We were, uh, _interrupted_ before, and you didn't get a chance to answer my question."

I lifted my chin, my eyes never leaving his, showing him I wasn't afraid. "_What_ question?"

His gloved hands were on either side of my head, keeping me in place. He leaned in so that his lips were nearly touching my ear. "Why did you inter_vene_, hm? And don't lie - I'll _know_."

He straightened his back so that his eyes were staring into mine. I couldn't ignore the fire that was burning deep inside my body. It was beginning to drive me crazy, but I did my best to keep myself under control.

"I thought he was going to kill you. I was worried."

The Joker's eyes brightened at my last statement, his smile growing as he chuckled smugly. "My kiss was, uh, _that _good, huh?"

I could feel the heat intensifying in my cheeks and I narrowed my eyes defensively. "_What_ kiss?" I retorted, making my tone as scornful as I could. My attempt to deflate his attitude failed, however, for he merely burst into laughter. He lowered his hands from either side of my head and began to loosen his tie as he walked across the room. He plopped down on the air mattress and started to untie his blood stained brown shoes, a smile stretching his scars.

I placed my hands on my hips. "What's so funny?"

He kicked off one of his shoes, sending it flying in my direction. I ducked and heard it smack against the wall behind me.

"You're really annoying sometimes, you know that?" I spoke with irritation. He didn't respond, focusing on the laces of his other shoe. There was a short moment of silence as I watched him curiously. I soon began to wander over to the shelf of cleaning products, eyeing them absent-mindedly. I couldn't help but wonder who's home this was. It was obviously someone who knew and worked for the Joker, since they had taken the time to set up a bed.

"Batman won't kill me."

I looked over at the Joker, who was now leaning back on his elbows, staring at the wall across the room.

"He has this false sense of self-righteous_ness_," he continued bitterly. "He likes to think he's _above _everyone, but he's not."

"So you're trying to prove him wrong?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my naked shoulders. I was starting to lose the body heat I obtained from running.

"I'm _trying _to show that when the people of Gotham are desperate enough, they are no better than the criminals they despise."

I stared at the clown, who had since closed his eyes. His face was smeared in dried blood and dirty face paint, which was cracking at the corner of his eyes and around his scarred mouth. With his eyes shut and his mouth closed, he seemed peaceful and, despite the make-up, innocent. I swallowed hard, wondering what he looked like underneath it all - underneath the paint and attitude, but I knew it was naive to think he was any different.

"Why didn't we go with the other guys to the south hideout?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.

"No way we _wouldn't_ have gotten caught, whether by the, uh, pigs _or_ Batman."

"Aren't you worried about them telling the police where we are?"

"No."

"How come?"

A cruel smile crossed the Joker's red lips and he opened one eye to look at me. "None of them want to die," he stated matter-of-factly. "That and they don't _know_ where we are. They'll be out of lock-_up_ by tomorrow, anyways. I _own_ good ol' Gotham. You uh, _cold_, doll face?"

He must of noticed me shivering slightly. "A little. I'm not exactly wearing the warmest clothes, you know."

"I don't have a problem with what you're, uh, wearing," he replied seductively, his eyebrows raised. I rolled my eyes, making sure I kept my arms folded over my chest as I walked over towards the mattress.

"Hand me one of those blankets, will you?" I asked, my hand out stretched.

The Joker shook his head. "Need to make the bed."

It was then I noticed that there was only one bed and my eyes began to frantically search the room. "There's only one bed in here!" I exclaimed.

"That's because the _owner_ thought I was going to be the only one here tonight," he replied as he began stretching the blankets out to cover the mattress.

I sighed heavily. "_Why_ did you even bring me here, then? I could have gone with the others."

The Joker stood up, looking at me through hooded eyes. "You're not trustworthy," he said. The only hint of a smile came from his scars. "I'm _curious_ - where did you get that gun?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can't call me untrustworthy, Joker. To be a criminal is to be dishonest, so who can trust you?"

He strode over to me with lightening speed, taking me by the throat. My hands immediately shot up and grabbed his wrist, trying to pry them away. In the dim light, his features seemed much more menacing. His scowl was deeper, his make-up, darker. I suddenly realized who he was, as if for the first time, and I silently cursed myself for letting my guard down.

"What were you planning on doing, _hm_?" he seethed. "Kill Edinger? Kill _me_?"

I shook my head frantically, feeling as if all the oxygen were being squeezed from my brain. Hot tears were beginning to sting my eyes. My back soon bounced against the mattress and I immediately put my hands up to defend myself from his attack. However, no attack came. The last thing I heard before he entered the bathroom and slammed the door was him calling me pathetic.


	13. Victorious

Hey guys! Long time, no see! And I'm very sorry for that! Life is crazy busy. This is a shorty, but I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are requested and appreciated - especially because I feel as though I'm losing my touch. It's hard to keep the story going smoothly with such long breaks! Again, my apologies! Enjoy! :]

* * *

The sound of heavy footsteps brought me out of a dreamless sleep. As I slowly opened my eyes, the events from the previous night came rushing back to me: the party, the Joker, the gun, the _kiss_.

"Shit," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with one of my hands before lifting myself to rest on my elbows. An empty, cold cement basement greeted me. I removed the single blanket that cover me and sat up on the mattress, looking around. The door to the bathroom was a jar, the light off. A heap of blankets and a pillow sat opposite of me against the wall, but the Joker was nowhere in sight. The heavy footsteps resumed.

I wrestled with the idea of going up to the main part of the house, slightly afraid of who would be up there. However, curiosity, and hunger, got the best of me, and I slowly made my way up the stairs and towards the door. I opened it a crack, relieved when it didn't creak, and peaked through. The door led into a sunlit kitchen, with white tiled floors and light yellow walls. In the left hand corner was a small, square wooden table, where a man in a white collared shirt, jeans, and medium-length blonde hair sat reading the newspaper, his back to me. I could feel my heart racing – it had to be the owner of the house. Could I trust him enough to come out from the basement? Right as I decided to play safe and close the door, I heard another door close and familiar voice drawing near.

"Nine hours later and I'm finally taking a break," Joshua said as he came into the kitchen and headed towards the coffee pot on the counter. "We arrested all of the boys in the south hide out two hours ago. They put up one hell of a fight."

The man at the table didn't reply; whatever story he was reading had his full attention. Joshua poured a cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter. He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes caught glimpse of the cracked basement door and me crouching down, watching. He laughed into his mug as he took a sip of his coffee. This caught the man's attention and he glanced back towards the door.

My jaw dropped and I stood up, opening the door fully. The man in front of me was someone I had only imagined and had never actually seen. Before me sat the man behind the mask, whose scars, now free of make-up, blended with his tan skin and puckered around his mouth. It was for the first time that I noticed he had hazel eyes. The surprise began to wear off and I was soon brought back to reality. His eyes were traveling my body, which was still clad in my dress, though it was now horribly wrinkled. I could feel my cheeks growing hot.

A small smirk crossed his lips.

"You look like shit," was all he said before turning back in his seat.

I wanted to say the same to him. God, I wanted to, but that would be too much of a lie. Flipping him off from behind, Joshua and I shared a silent smile before I took a seat across from the Joker, who was now underlining something in the newspaper.

"Are the men allowed bail?" I directed my question towards Joshua, but my eyes remained on the Joker. He looked so _normal_. He was wearing _jeans_. It was somewhat endearing.

"No," Joshua replied. "Not with the connections they have. They're to remain in lock-up for now until they can be transferred. They've been questioned for hours about the whereabouts of both of you. Most of them don't know, but the ones that do aren't budging."

"I, ha, _train_ my dogs well," the Joker snickered, his eyes still glued to the paper in front of him.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about there, but I see you're reading the paper," Joshua pointed out. "Did you read Gordon's statement? About how the police and Batman won't be separate forces? They're going to work closer together now to bring you down."

"All lies," the Joker replied. "Bats won't work with them. He says he will, but he won-_t_. He's like _me_ – not the sharing kind."

"What about me?" I asked, looking up at Josh. "Was there any talk about me in the investigation?"

"You haven't been heard anything, huh?"

I shook my head. _That_ can't be good.

"Well, everyone is referring to you as the, uh, Clown Princess of Crime."

"WHAT?" I practically screamed. "Why?"

The Joker snickered and I glared at him before rolling my eyes. "Ugh, forget it. What's the plan now? We can't stay here forever."

"We stay as long as I like," the Joker snapped, his eyes lifting from the paper and narrowing. I continued to glare at him; he was much less intimidating now. He pushed back his chair and stood up slowly, cracking his back as he did so. "But, dollface is right – too dangerous," he said to Joshua. "I have something set up across town on the upper side."

I can leave an anonymous tip about you being in the Narrows."

The Joker shook his head. "No, no, no, no. That's too obvious. _Gordy _probably has lots of you in that area. Leave the tip for _some_where, _anywhere_, else."

Joshua nodded and the cell phone attached to his police belt began to vibrate. He opened it and sighed before draining the rest of his coffee.

"Gotta go, boss," he said, throwing his mug into the sink next to him. "I'll be sure to steer the investigation."

And with that, he was gone. The Joker followed him out of the kitchen, making sure the front door was locked and secure. I got up from my seat in the kitchen and stood in the doorway leading to a dimly lit living area where the front door was.

"So what's this thing on the upper side? Am I going with you? And why aren't you wearing any of the things you usually where?" I asked curiously, leaning against the doorframe.

The Joker laughed dryly. "Well aren't we _full _of questions, hm?" he replied, turning to face me. The way the shadows played across his face and scars made my stomach sink and I felt my body begin to tense as he slowly made his way towards me. I knew better than to run and soon felt his warm hands on my bare shoulders. I looked up into his eyes and, upon feeling my body growing warmer, I shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

His eyes glinted and his smirk grew.

"Scared, _princess_?"

I'm not quite sure why – maybe it was the way his hands felt against my skin or how damn handsome he looked at that moment – but I couldn't help what happened next. Snaking my arms around his neck, I brought my lips crashing against his. His body immediately tensed with my abrupt touch and the grip he now held on my forearms was tight and would most likely leave bruises. However, I soon felt him relax, and although his hands still held my arms, the unforgettable feeling of his lips moving with mine made me feel victorious.


	14. Self Control

Long overdue! Reviews are appreciated! Enjoy!

* * *

Kissing him felt so wrong, and I think that's what made it so exciting. I couldn't help but shiver as his hands traveled to my hips, allowing me to lean into him further, deepening our kiss. Our mouths moved together frantically, our tongues wrestling for dominance. I couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that was building within me or the rush of adrenaline that was now pumping through my veins. For the briefest moment, however, I let myself forget who the man in front of me really was. I slipped one of my arms from around his neck and brought my hand to touch the side of his face, gently tracing the deep scar with the tips of my fingers. His body immediately tensed at my touch and his strong grip was soon around my wrist, making me gasp in pain. I looked up into his eyes apologetically.

"You should, uh, really learn some self-con-_trol_," he said quietly, releasing me and turning towards the kitchen. I stood still, dumbfounded and slightly irritated at his statement. His voice quickly emerged. "There's a shower and clean clothes upstairs. You have forty minutes."

"What's in forty minutes?" I asked, letting my eyes drift to the old, wooden staircase at my right. I decided not to argue when the Joker didn't respond and instead made my way upstairs.

I slowly walked through the main hallway, noting the very rich color of the walls and the polished, cherry wood furniture. The marbled floor was covered in a long, dark, oriental carpet. It seemed odd to think that Joshua would decorate his house with such antique style. Opening the door to the bathroom, I was nearly blinded by the sunlight bouncing off the white walls. The tile floor felt like ice against my bare feet, so stepping into a stream of hot water forced a relaxing sigh from my mouth. It took all of my will power to shut off the shower fifteen minutes later. After securely wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped out of the shower. An outfit was hanging from the hook on the bathroom door – a knee-length black skirt, a long-sleeved blue blouse, and heavy black coat. A pair of black heels, alack bra and a pair of powder blue underwear sat on the counter, the price tags still attached. I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of the Joker – or Joshua – shopping for women's underwear.

After getting dressed, I observed myself in the full-length mirror connected to the door. The clothes fit surprising well and were extremely expensive. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that they were stolen. Once satisfied with my appearance, I quickly made my way downstairs, eager to find out what today's plan was. I still had excitement lingering from last night, and my kiss with the Joker, although unnerving, only added to the thrill.

The Joker was sitting on one of the dark blue sofas in the living room outside of the kitchen, putting on a pair of black sneakers. The sun had broken through the clouds and was spilling in from the window behind him and over his shoulders. His dirty blonde hair was combed neatly back and his face was free from make-up. I hadn't even realized that I was frozen in place on the staircase until he looked up at me. The grooves of his scars were shadowed, giving him a darkened Glasgow smile.

"See something you _like_, doll?" he teased, a real smile playing across his mouth.

His voice brought me back to reality and I gave him a sharp glare.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" I asked, proceeding down the stairs. "You look almost normal."

The Joker chuckled. "That's the, uh, _idea_."

To his right sat a pair of sunglasses and what looked like a blonde wig.

"Dressing in drag today?" I teased, picking up the wig. It was nice, the hair silky and long. It was definitely not a cheap costume piece. I looked down at the Joker, who had just finished tying his shoes, and could have sworn there was a small smile across his mouth.

"The wig is for _you_," he replied, standing and stretching his back. "We need to get to the up-_per_ side without drawing attention. We're, uh, wanted criminals, you know."

"Is someone picking us up?" I asked, putting my hair in a loose bun. A mirror sat above the fireplace and I used it to adjust the wig so that it sat properly. I never thought I could pull off being a blonde, but it looked fairly realistic and would definitely fool those who had never seen me before.

"Stop _fidd_ling, dollface. We're taking Rickman's car and we're leaving _now_."

We exited through the door in the basement and were soon greeted by the cold morning, the sun reflecting brightly against the remaining snow on the ground. Even with my heavy coat on, a chill was running its way up my spine and my toes burned inside my black heels. After slipping on his sunglasses, the Joker tossed a pair my way. I followed him down the alley towards the back of the apartment complex, where a small parking lot sat. Joshua's car was sleek and black, and I welcomed its warmth, holding my hands up to the heater vents.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going?" I asked after a short while, pulling my eyes away from the passenger side window.

The Joker opened his mouth to speak, but the flashing red and blue colors of a police car caught his attention.

"Oh shit," I breathed, craning my neck to look over my shoulder. I could feel my heart beginning to race and it nearly stopped when I realized that the Joker was actually pulling over. "What? What are you _doing_? Are you insane?"

"Shut up."

I don't know what I was expecting, but running from the police seemed like a better option other than simply giving ourselves away. We were now parked along the side of the street and the Joker began to roll down the window. I looked over my shoulder again in time to see two officers step out of the car. Slowly, I felt myself sink lower into my seat.

"You better know what you're doing," I growled angrily. The Joker merely waived his hand in my face, his elbow now resting outside the window. One officer was approaching the driver side while the other stayed near the police car.

"Is there a, uh, _problem_, officer?" the Joker asked nonchalantly. My stomach was now in my throat. He couldn't even disguise his voice.

"Well, for one, your tags are expired."

"You mean _your_ tags."

My jaw nearly hit the floor of the car. Joshua leaned forward to look into the car and laughed slightly when he saw my confused expression.

"You better not have pulled me over for nothing, Rick_man_."

Joshua took off his sunglasses. "Of course not," he replied. His voice became a whisper. "I'm glad I caught you. The place in upper side is compromised, as is the hotel. Chuckles gave in to the interrogations. There are already officers stationed around both buildings."

The tension in the car became thick, and the Joker's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening. His scowl was pulling his scars downward.

"There's an abandoned warehouse in the industrial section of the city," he said, his voice frighteningly monotone. "When the break out happens, I want you to direct the men there and I want Chuckles brought to me, understand?"

Joshua nodded as he put back on his sunglasses. Without another word, he was gone. The police car soon drove past us and disappeared down the street. The Joker and I sat in an awkward silence; his grip on the steering wheel hadn't loosened. I decided to break the silence.

"Can I ask what the problem is? So we can't stay in the upper side, what's the big deal?"

My voice seemed to break him out of whatever trace he was in and he immediately put the car into drive.

"The _big_ _deal _is that the upper side hideout contains all of my _toys_," the Joker replied angrily, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal furiously as we merged onto the freeway.

I placed my hand on the dashboard to steady myself. "Toys?"

"Guns, bombs, _knives_ – damn it!" he yelled, slamming the steering wheel. His sudden outburst made me jump, and I found myself growing increasingly uncomfortable. I had learned how unpredictable the Joker could truly be. I leaned myself against the side of the door and made myself as far from him as I could, focusing my attention on the world that was speeding by. The tall downtown skyscrapers were now behind us, and the cement buildings of Gotham's industrial sector were now crowding the horizon. When we pulled up to the abandoned warehouse, I immediately recognized it as the one the Joker used to torture the former DA.

The stone building was three stories and nearly every window was broken or cracked. Inside was damp and cold, despite the sunlight that was spilling onto the dirty cement floors. My eyes fell immediately onto the chair that sat in the middle of the room, which was covered in what I could only assume was old blood; the metallic smell still hung thick in the air. The Joker walked ten steps ahead of me, heading towards the old elevator across the room. I sped up, making it just in time before the doors of the elevator closed.

"Are there places to sleep here?" I asked, reaching down and relieving my feet from my uncomfortable heels before taking off the wig. "I assume we'll be staying here for a while."

"We're staying for as long as I say we're staying," the Joker growled, turning towards me. He lunged forward, reaching out and grabbing my face roughly. His face held more anger than I had ever seen and I soon felt his hot breath against my ear. "You dis_obey _me again or pull anything similar to last night, I _will kill_ you, you under_stand_? You are not my partner, dollface, so stop acting like it. You answer to _me_."

He pushed me away with so much force that my back crashed against the flimsy elevator wall. When the doors opened, he disappeared down the hallway. I remained leaned against the wall, visibly shaking, both in anger and fear. I cursed myself for letting myself feel comfortable around that man - that monster. How could I ever have been so stupid?

And to think I willingly kissed him – the mere thought of it made me sick to my stomach. My goal for the day was to remain out of his sight.

After exploring the warehouse, I discovered a room on the first floor outside of the main entrance. Inside sat an old wooden desk and chair, a cot, a typewriter and radio, which, to my surprise, still worked. I assumed it had once been an office. I remained there for the rest of the day, lounging and listening to local stations. Every now and then, I could hear the Joker walking in a room above me, pacing. I couldn't help but wonder what he was doing, but I knew better than to try and find out.

It was dusk now, and pink light was spilling onto the office walls, giving everything a serene glow. I was lying on the cot, my coat spread out underneath me, when the music on the radio cut out, replaced by the voice of a worried reporter.

"I have just received word that the Joker's henchmen have escaped GCPD. There have been reports of explosions and gunfire occurring throughout the police department – seven confirmed deaths, many more wounded."

As if on cue, I could hear the door to the warehouse swing open, slamming against the wall. It startled me and I was on my feet immediately. A man's terrified screams echoed throughout the entire building and I could hear quickened footsteps on the floor above me. I already knew that the man screaming was Chuckles. I stood quietly in the middle of the office, not wanting to see what the Joker had planned for him.

The clown's voice was cold. "Tie him up."

"No, no, boss, I'm s-sorry," Chuckles sobbed. "Y-You don't have to do this!"

"_Chuckles_," the Joker chided, stifling a laugh, "I do. I really do. You need to be taugh-_t_ a les-_son_."

Chuckles was crying loudly, pleading for his life. I expected screams, but what I heard next frightened me more.

"Get the girl."

The door to the office swung open and one of the lackeys moved towards me, ready to grab my arm.

"Lay a hand on me and you'll be choking on my fist," I seethed, pushing his hand away from me. I moved past him and made my way out into the vast, open room. Chuckles was tied up in the blood-soaked chair, his wrists and ankles bound tightly with rope. He had a large, bloody gash in his shoulder and his eyes were purple and swollen shut. Someone had beaten the hell out of him before he got here. All of the henchmen were surrounding the chair and the Joker, who was now in his traditional purple suit. His black-rimmed eyes met my own.

"You didn't think I would let you miss the show," he sang loudly, his arms outstretched in a dramatic, grand display of power. In his right hand, he held a knife.

I stood silently with the other lackeys, my arms crossed in front of my chest. I refused to show him that I was scared. My silence seemed to displease him.

"Chuckles here will be an _example _for you all," he explained, his voice lined with anticipation. He placed his hand on Chuckles' shoulder, making the man jump in fear and surprise. The Joker knelt before him, gripping his jaw tightly. "Aw, shh, shh," he crooned, patting the man's cheek. "Wha-_t _did you_ think_ would happen?"

"_Please_.."

"Shh, it won't hurt," the Joker said softly, placing the blade at the corner of Chuckles' mouth. "Much."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the bloodshed. The mixture of the Joker's hysterical laughter and Chuckle's shattering screams sent a wave of chills down my spine. When the screams stopped, I opened my eyes and immediately regretted the decision. The Joker was standing, cleaning his knife. Chuckle's head hung limp and where his mouth had been was now an ear-to-ear Glasgow smile. His face, shirt, and the floor around him were soaked in blood. Leaning forward, the Joker placed a finger on Chuckle's neck, checking for a pulse.

"He's still _alive_," he declared, straightening his back. "When he's finally dead, dump his body in the Gotham River."

The lackeys nodded silently, backing away as the Joker left for the elevator and disappeared to the second floor.

"_Shit_, guys," whispered Doc, his eyes wide as he stared at Chuckles' maimed face.

"He had it comin', ratting on the boss like he did. What an idiot," another lackey named Ace, replied. He turned towards me. "You need to watch yourself, Maroni. Don't pull any stunts like you did last night. Boss don't like no surprises."

"Yeah, so I've learned."

"What were you doing with that gun, anyways?" Doc asked.

I let my arms fall to my sides, feeling less threatened now that the Joker was gone.

"I was promised revenge," I explained. "The Joker hasn't kept that promise, so I was going to see to it myself."

Soft laughter filled the room. "The Joker don't make promises," Ace said, shaking his head. "And even if he did, his plans come first."

I rolled my eyes, growing frustrated. Eventually, the men all gathered in a corner with a deck of cards, talking quietly amongst themselves, so I decided to go back into the safety of the old office. It was dark now, and with no source of light in the room, I had to feel my way towards the cot. I laid down on top of my coat, staring up into the darkness before finally closing my eyes and giving in to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Hey, wake up!"

I opened my eyes slowly, awakened by the feeling of someone shaking my shoulder. Doc stood next to the cot, towering above me, his form nothing but a shadow. It was still night.

"You awake?"

I sat up, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. "Yeah, I'm awake," I yawned. "What time is it?"

"Close to two. The boss wants to see you."

I could make out the features of Doc's face now. "What? Why?" I asked, confused and still half-asleep.

"Really? You think I'm actually going to question the boss after what happened tonight? He calls, you go. That simple. Take the elevator to the second floor. Go all the way down the hall. Door is on the left."

* * *

I followed Doc's directions. The floor of the warehouse was cold and so I decided to put my heels back on. The elevator moved slowly and unsteadily and I leaned against the wall for support. When the doors opened, I was greeted by the dull, golden glow of dusty wall lights. The hallway floor was a dark wood and my heels seemed to echo loudly with each step I took.

I knocked softly on the door.

"It's open."

Upon opening the door, I was greeted by a much brighter light. A queen-sized bed sat in the corner, along with a small desk and wooden chair – all furniture that the Joker must have brought himself. The Joker was nowhere in sight. I closed the door behind me, but made sure my hand remained on the knob. There was a door to the left, where I could hear the sound of running water.

"You wanted to see me?" I called out.

The water stopped and the Joker soon stepped out from the side room. I felt my stomach tighten immediately. He had washed off his make-up again, though his hair still had its greenish color. His patterned shirt was unbuttoned completely, revealing his tanned, muscular, and scarred chest; his suspenders hung loosely next to his hips. My hand gripped the doorknob tightly.

"I _did_ want to see you," he replied, sitting on the bed and untying his shoelaces. "I wanted to, uh, make _sure_ that my message earlier was clear."

My voice was caught in my throat. Not hearing a response, he looked up.

"Cat got your _tongue_, doll?"

I shook my head. "No. Your message was clear. Is that all?"

I needed to get out of here. He must have sensed my discomfort because a small smirk was beginning to play across his lips. He stood up from his place on the bed and walked towards me.

"You seem _nervous_," he teased. He was inches away now, his handsome, scarred face staring down at me. "It _can't _be my scars."

He tucked a piece of stray hair behind my ear. The feeling of his rough hands against my skin made me shiver. His mouth pressed against my ear.

"Have you learned any self-con_trol_ yet?"


	15. Handsome Madman

Okay, this chapter contains sexual references. You have been warned. It's a shorter chapter, but I figured you guys would appreciate an update sooner rather than later! R&R is always appreciated. Thank you for all those who have reviewed so far!

* * *

_"Have you learned any self-control yet?"_

Everything moved so quickly, blurring together and forming a muddled memory of heat, sweat, and passion. I remember the feeling of his scarred mouth as he kissed me roughly and the heat that radiated off of his chest, sending shivers down my spine. I remember how rough his hands felt as they groped and grabbed my thighs to lift me up and wrap my legs around his waist. I remember the excitement that flooded through me when I hit the mattress and when he tore open my button down shirt, his mouth traveling everywhere. I remember thinking that I should stop him, stop myself, but I was too far-gone and we were both naked. When we finally began to move against each other, I remember a brief moment of self-loathing before waves of pleasure began to hit both of our bodies, and then all I cared about was him.

Everything had moved so quickly and before I could even grasp what was happening, it was over. I was now lying in the Joker's bed, naked, starting into the blackness of the ceiling. The Joker was lying to my left, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and rhythmic; he had fallen asleep quickly. Turning onto my left side, I positioned myself slowly as not to wake him. It was dark in the room. I don't remember when he turned off the lights, but I could still make out his features - his nose, his lips, his cheekbones, his scars. He was a handsome man. A handsome madman, rather.

I closed my eyes tightly, cursing myself for what I had just done. I won't deny that the deepest, darkest part of me had wanted it to happen, because doing so would be a lie. I just never imagined that this would become a reality. Opening my eyes, I was glad to see him still sleeping and decided it would be best if I left. Being in this bed was making me feel dirty, and not in a good way. Slowly, I sat up and inched my way off of the bed, making sure to make as little noise as possible. I grabbed my clothes and got dressed quickly, stopping every time the Joker moved or made a noise in his sleep. Once out of the room, I hurried into the elevator and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid closed.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I said aloud, leaning against the wall as the elevator hummed and moved towards the first floor. Despite being angry with myself, I couldn't help but feel satisfied. Nothing had ever felt _that_ good before.

When the doors to the elevator opened, I put my heels on and made my way towards the main entrance of the factory. All of the lackeys were still playing cards on the floor in the corner of the room. Chuckles' body had long been disposed of and bloody mess cleaned up. When I entered the room, I was greeted immediately by suspicious stares and unnerving grins.

"What are you idiots looking at?" I asked, my voice laced with irritation. I then realized how I looked, with my hair knotted and messy and my shirt wrinkled and buttoned haphazardly.

"We, uh, have a bet," Ace replied, his smile widening.

"A bet that has to do with me?"

The lackeys nodded.

Silence.

"Well, are you going to tell me what the bet is or just sit there looking like morons," I asked, growing increasingly impatient.

"Was it rape?"

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

"W-What? Was what rape?"

"Oh, please, we could hear you all the way down here!" one lackey cried out.

"Didn't sound like rape to me," Doc chimed in. "Guess we know what the boss wanted."

I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. "You guys are disgusting!" I practically screamed. "Mind your own business!"

And with that, I hurried into the small office that I had claimed as my room and slammed the door. The sound of the men's laughter was echoing throughout the first floor. Lying on the small cot, I buried my face into my coat. I doubted I was going to get any sleep tonight.

* * *

The sound of someone banging on the office door woke me with a start, causing me to nearly fall off of the cot.

"What?" I said, covering my face from the light that was now breaking through the dusty window.

"Time to go!" came a man's voice. "We got work to do!"

Grudgingly, I stood up, squinting against the light. I had maybe slept for two to three hours.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I opened the door. The men, minus Joker, were all huddled in the middle of the room, clown masks in hand. They turned at the sound of my voice.

"Get any sleep?" Ace asked, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Shut up. Where are we going?"

Doc threw a clown mask my way. "We're robbin' a bank," he replied. "We gotta buy new guns and weapons, which means we gotta get the money first."

I looked down at my clown mask, which looked surprisingly feminine – a white painted face with red lips and blushed cheeks.

"We, uh, gave you the girl mask 'cause, well, you're a girl."

I raised my eyebrow up and looked at the timid man that had just spoken. He was much shorter than the others and thin. "Yes, I see that, thank you. Now, why aren't we just stealing weapons directly? Wouldn't that be easier and save time?"

Doc shook his head. "Nah, the boss doesn't like just any weapon. He gets his stuff special from some guy in the military or something like that."

_Is there anyone the Joker doesn't have wrapped around his finger?_ I thought to myself and, as if on cue, the boss man himself soon emerged from the elevator, adjusting the tie of his navy blue suit. His clown make-up and green hair dye had been reapplied since last night. I quickly looked away before I could make eye contact and focused my attention on the clown mask in my hands.

"Cars ready?" the Joker asked, taking his own mask from Doc, who answered his question affirmatively. "Okay, good. I want all of you to cram into the van. Dollface and I will take the other car."

This elicited a few chuckles from the group of men.

The Joker raised his eyebrows. "Is, uh, something _funny_?"

His voice was low and dangerous, causing the lackeys to stand up straight and shake their heads.

"Good. Now get going."

The men were out the door within seconds. I followed the Joker out towards Rickman's car.

"I could have gone with them, you know," I said as I got into the passenger seat. The Joker slipped into the driver's seat and buckled his seat belt, throwing his clown mask onto my lap.

"After what you pulled at the, uh, _party_ the other night, I don't _trust_ you."

"You seemed to _trust_ me last night."

I had said it under my breath, but he had heard it. We were backing out of the parking lot when he slammed on the breaks, stopping the car from going into reverse. He leaned toward me, his forearm resting on the top of my seat. I leaned closer to the window, staring him straight in the eye. Even though I wasn't scared of him in that moment, I knew how unpredictable he could be. His eyes glinted at my reaction.

"As, uh, _pleasing_ as last night was," he said, leaning in closer to me, "consider it a one-time thing. We got work to do."

The car was soon moving again and I stared out the passenger side window, happy for the silence. I closed my eyes, pretending I was somewhere else. I felt disappointed with what the Joker had just said and I hated myself because of it. I never wanted things to become complicated, or more complicated, I should say. The Joker seemed content with what had happened.

_ I wonder if he really only wants it to be a one time thing or if – no, no, no, no. Stop! _I yelled at myself. _It's done. It was fun, now it's over._

I sat back in my seat and opened my eyes. As watched him out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but smile.

_Handsome madman_.


	16. Going Down

Enjoy the update and let me know what you think so far!

* * *

I couldn't stop shivering.

Had I known we would be standing outside for thirty minutes, I would have demanded a warmer jacket, maybe even some pants. I was in the same clothes as the day before. My feet were aching from the cold, my toes painfully numb. It was a cloudless morning and the concrete beneath my feet was glossed with a thin film of frost. The Joker and I were standing on the roof of the apartment building across from the Gotham National Bank. He was leaning over the edge, a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes as he scanned the outside of the bank.

"W-What are we w-waiting for?" I asked impatiently, my teeth chattering. I was holding our clown masks, though I could no longer feel my fingers.

The Joker said nothing, but merely waved my question away with his hand. I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly. He seemed unaffected by the cold, probably because he was wearing a heavier coat and matching slacks. I walked over to the edge and stood next to him, hoping to see what he did. We were twenty stories above the street and I had to squint to make out what was going on. There were two security guards standing outside the front doors, dressed in black uniforms and as still as statues. The Joker seemed to be focused on them. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but when the guards suddenly rushed inside the bank, the Joker jumped up and dropped the binoculars over the edge.

"Let's go, let's go, let's goo!" he sang, grabbing my wrist and bouncing towards the door that led back into the building. He continued to cackle and holler as he bounded down the stairs, practically dragging me behind him. He was holding a gun in his other hand, waving it excitedly. We had been quiet and furtive coming in, but it seemed as though it didn't matter now whether or not our presence was known.

"I can walk on my own, you know!" I said once we had stopped in front of the elevator. I jerked my wrist out of his grip and rubbed the irritated skin. He looked back at me with his dark, wide eyes and a grin that can only be described as that of an excited child. The elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened, revealing a short, overweight woman. Her face immediately paled at the sight of us and she dropped her bag of groceries.

"Going _down_?" the Joker asked, pointing the gun at the woman and advancing forward.

She screamed. He shot, and blood spattered against the elevator wall. The woman lay slumped on the floor with only half a face, her breathing gurgled and ragged. The Joker shot again, then silence. The elevator hummed melodically as we descended towards the ground floor. I pressed myself up against the opposite wall, my eyes glued to the now dead stranger. A normal person would be disgusted and frightened, but I felt nothing. I felt neither fear nor sadness.

As my gaze traveled from the body to the Joker, my eyes met his. He was looking at me, studying me as a smirk played across his lips. He knew what I was feeling and it was becoming easier for me to accept it: I was _excited_.

I smiled and this seemed to be some sort of indicator to him. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled another gun from its holster and tossed it to me.

"Any _funny _business," he said, his smirk fading, "and you'll, uh, be another de_coration _on this wall, got it?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, I got it, boss."

This seemed to please him. Taking his clown mask, he slipped it over his face and I followed his lead. We quickly rushed through the apartment lobby, leaving people screaming and scrambling away from the elevator. When we reached the front doors of the bank, the Joker unceremoniously shot through the glass, his laughter muffled by his mask. He stepped through, tossing his gun from one hand to the other as he surveyed the bank. The bank was home to the accounts of the wealthiest people in Gotham, which meant it was a swanky place. Marble pillars stretched up towards the domed, glass ceiling from their place in the tiled floor. Royal blue carpets sat beneath the customer service desks.

The lackeys had already secured the building and, as I would find out later, had disabled the silent alarm. They were now positioned in various spots, their guns pointing at the innocent civilians who were huddled on the ground. One lackey had a large duffel bag at his feet, which I could only assume was full of stolen money.

The Joker snapped his fingers in my direction and pointed to an empty corner to the right of the bank, silently ordering me to stand guard there. The sound of my heels on the smooth, tiled floor seemed to echo throughout the room as I walked. I planted myself in the corner and looked down at the people at my feet, their eyes wide with fear. One in particular caught my eye and I felt my face grow hot. He was sitting behind a pillar, out of the Joker's sight, his chubby hands fiddling with a cell phone. A man I barely knew, but had grown to hate.

_David Edinger._

"Sorry to _intrude_," the Joker said with a laugh. He removed his clown mask and one woman screamed. She received a quick blow to the head by one of the lackeys and immediately fell unconscious.

"How _rude_, is this the welcome I get?" the Joker asked with mock sadness. He walked towards one hostage, a man in his mid forties, and lifted him by the collar of his shirt. He placed his gun against the man's temple. "I was expecting a little more _excitement_, not –"

The sound of my heels caused the Joker to pause. His glare was burning through me, but I didn't care. With my gun pointed, I continued to move towards Edinger. He looked up at me, his entire body shaking, and I quickly snatched the cell phone from his hand. I narrowed my eyes at him and held my gun steady. With my other hand, I removed my mask and his blue eyes widened in fear and recognition. He shook his head, silently pleading to leave him alone. My lips curled downward and I looked up towards the Joker, who was now making his way towards me.

"So _what_ do we have _here_?" he asked, nudging me aside. His eyes brightened at the sight of Edinger. "My, oh, my, if it isn't the big man him_self_." Bending forward, he pulled Edinger up by his collar, forcing him to stand on wobbly legs.

"P-Please," Edinger sobbed, tears forming in his eyes. "I'll give you anything. Money! I have s-s-so much m-money!"

The sound of his voice made me want to puke and I gripped the handle of my gun tightly. The Joker chuckled softly and squeezed the man's fat cheeks with a gloved hand.

"Well, _ha_, it, uh, looks like I already _have_ your _money_, but you see, my gal over here," he nodded in my direction, "she has some unfinished business with you."

Edinger's eyes shifted towards me and with a pitiful sob, he began to cry.

"D-D-Danielle –"

"_Shut up_," I seethed, baring my teeth. "Don't you _dare_ say my name."

The Joker grabbed Edinger's face again, forcing his eyes to him.

"You must excuse her. She's a, uh, _feisty_ one." He laughed and pushed Edinger down to the floor, motioning for his lackeys to come over. "See to it that _Davy_ here gets a warm welcome to our lovely _home_."

The lackeys laughed and began to drag their hostage towards the back exit, mocking his pathetic screams for help until the sound of shattering glass caught their attention. Screams filled the room and some people took the chance to escape out the front doors. Both the Joker and I covered our faces as shards of glass and wood fell down from the ceiling above. A dark figure swooped down and stood among the debris, his eyes narrowing in our direction.

"_Bats!_" The Joker exclaimed, brushing pieces of glass from his shoulder as he stifled a laugh. He cracked his neck and put his gun away inside his jacket. "I'm really, _really_ glad you decided to come! We were just about to start the _show _and I have the per-_fect_ part for you!"

Batman stood rigid, ready to pounce. His voice was deep and gruff. "Give up, Joker. You have no where to go."

In the distance, I could hear police sirens.

"N-No where to _go_?" The Joker burst out laughing, his high-pitched voice filling the room. "Oh, Bats, that's a _good_ one. You see, for me, the _skies_ the limi-_t_." From his pants pocket, he pulled out a small, black remote with various buttons and threw it towards Batman, who caught it with ease. He looked suspiciously from the Joker to the remote.

"What _game _are you playing here, Joker?"

The Joker grabbed my wrist and pulled me close to him. The sirens were getting louder as the police grew close. Slowly, we began to inch towards the back exit.

"There are six buttons on that _little_ remote, Bats. One of those buttons will defuse the bomb that is set to go off in this building in, oh," the Joker lifted his wrist and checked an imaginary watch, "two minutes. The other buttons will _detonate_ it."

Now we were running, the Joker's laughter ringing harshly in my ears. He must have known that the Batman wouldn't follow us, not with the threat of a bomb that could kill hundreds. It was ingenious, and I couldn't help but wonder when he had time to plan it all. The lackeys behind us carried a screaming Edinger and the bag full of money as we hurried towards a nearby parking structure. The commercial white van sat on the second story. Unlocking the back doors, the Joker threw them open and shoved me roughly inside.

The van had been gutted, the seats removed and replaced with two wooden benches that sat against either wall. Various guns were crammed under the benches, along with knives and sticks of dynamite. The Joker sat next to me and the lackeys were soon piling in, making for a tight fit. Edinger was thrown to the dirty van floor and a blindfold was quickly placed over his eyes; his hands were soon tied behind his back with a plastic zip-tie.

One lackey, who everyone called Dopey, hopped into the driver seat. He immediately put the van into reverse and hit the gas, causing the wheels to screech against the asphalt. Due to a lack of space, the Joker was pressed up against me and his scent was permeating my senses and bringing back memories of the night before. I inhaled sharply, focusing my attention to the man at my feet. He was crying, pleading for his life, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

A sudden explosion rocked the ground beneath us, causing the van to shake violently. Through the tinted windows in the back of the van, I could see smoke and fire billowing from the horizon. Batman had failed to defuse the bomb. I expected the Joker to be happy, but his attention was on the group of flashing police cars that were now tailing us.

Leaning forward, he pushed me aside with his elbow as he reached for something under his seat. What he pulled out made my jaw drop.

"I-Is that a _machine gun_?"

"Of course," he replied, stepping on top of Edinger as he positioned himself in front of the back door. He looked back at me, his eyes glinting with excitement. "What did you _expect_?"


End file.
